


Sticks and Stones

by Kerensa



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Anger, M/M, Pain, hurtful words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7210916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerensa/pseuds/Kerensa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Simon find out that words can indeed hurt when they jump on Blair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticks and Stones

**Sticks and Stones** \- [Kerensa](mailto:strifesmistress@yahoo.com)

_Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me._

Blair Sandburg, grad student, police observer and Guide, stumbled as he walked into the Major Crimes squad room, tripping over a long, beige computer cable that was trailing between two desks like a long, plastic snake. He pushed the remains of his straggling ponytail out of his eyes and looked around in surprise. There were cables snaking all around the room; between desks, under them and in one case, over the top of the desk and chair sitting in front of it. The room looked like a computer outlet store had exploded all over it. 

‘I wonder what’s up with that,’ Blair pondered. For about two seconds. He was too tired to care more than that. 

‘Thank god it’s Thursday. With the upcoming holiday weekend I don’t have to be back to the university again until Tuesday afternoon. Maybe I can take the time off and actually get a little sleep.’ All that the anthropology student wanted to think about for the next several days was what the inside of his eyeballs looked like. 

“Hi Joel, hi H.” Blair said as he waved a greeting to both them and Rhonda. He would have liked to stop and chat, but he had bigger problems and from the looks of the room and their harried appearances, the two cops and Simon's assistant wouldn't have time to chat anyway. 

Blair dropped his battered leather backpack by Jim’s desk and took his jacket off, laying it on “his chair”. That phrase still left him a little awe-filled. Him, a neo-hippie wanna be, with a chair in the Major Crimes division of the Cascade Police Department. He tugged the leather tie, which was already coming loose, out of his hair. Sandburg ran his hands through his mussed locks, trying to get them in some semblance of order. 

The young anthropologist shook off his musings and walked over to the Captain’s closed door. Blair could hear the captain talking and so he waited a few moments until there was a lull in the conversation before interrupting. Knocking quietly, Blair waited until he heard a gruff mutter from inside, which Blair assumed was Simon’s usual “come in” grumble. He smiled tiredly at the familiar sound. It hadn't taken him long to get used to Banks' gruff exterior. 

Blair opened the glassed in door and managed to take one step inside before he was attacked. Not physically. No, that would have been much easier and infinitely less painful. 

“ **SANDBURG!** ” 

Blair jumped straight up in the air at the bellow; his heart jolted and then began to beat in a desperate staccato. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong. He never got the chance. 

“What the **HELL** do you think you are doing, barging into **MY** office like you own the place?” 

“I…” 

Simon barreled over Blair’s attempt to answer. 

“Isn’t it bad enough that you’re running around, using the station like your own personal office.” He waved angrily at the bullpen and Blair’s few things sitting on Jim’s desk. "You dress like some dumpster reject." Banks gestured to Blair's soft, time worn jeans and older flannel shirt. 

Blair pulled on the edge of his sleeve self-consciously. On the way across the campus parking lot he had been splashed by a passing car. The water from the mud puddle had smelled nasty and Blair had been grateful at the time that he had this spare outfit in his office. Now he wasn't so happy about it. 

“You park in the police lot, like you belong there. That space is for police department personnel only and you…” He pointed a finger towards Blair’s chest. The young man flinched back, wondering if Simon were actually going to hit him, a thought he wouldn't even entertained five minutes earlier. “…you are in no way, shape or form part of this station.” 

Simon puffed angrily, his dark face clenched up tight. He glanced down at his desk and spotted something else to vent his ire with. With an angry swipe of his hand, the large Captain snatched up a memo and brandished it in the air, shaking it in an extremely startled Blair’s face. The younger man took a half step back when the piece of paper hit him in the cheek. “You use office equipment for one of your damn classes. I have **PROOF** that you made 428 copies, using a **POLICE COPIER**.” Simon threw his ever-present cigar down on the desk. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t have your ass arrested and thrown in lock up for misuse of police resources.” 

Simon slammed his fist down on the desk. A shell-shocked Blair jerked badly. He looked over at Jim for the first time. Jim was looking down at his coffee cup and was so still that Blair had almost missed him sitting there. He didn’t say anything, but his posture and attitude just screamed that this was all Blair’s fault. 

‘Did Simon just threaten to put me in jail?’ Blair was stunned. He didn’t know what was going on. Simon had never really liked him or his presence in the station, but he’d never been outright vicious before. 

Blair looked back when he realized Simon was still yelling. ‘Is it possible that Simon knows about Jim and me?’ Blair flicked a nervous look over at Jim and then back. ‘No, Jim didn’t seem worried.’ 

Blair didn’t see how anyone could suspect that in the last six weeks the relationship between Jim and Blair had moved from friends to lovers. They didn’t act any differently at the station now that they were having sex. Actually, that wasn’t strictly true; Jim’s attitude towards Blair had changed. In an effort to keep their relationship secret, Jim had distanced himself from Blair. 

‘Way distant.’ Blair thought to himself as he watched his big lover ignoring him. ‘If he gets any farther away, I won’t be able to see him.’ 

“…your crap is always lying around…” 

“Excuse me.” 

Rhonda’s soft voice coming from the open doorway had Blair jumping again. He was more than a little on edge. Having a 6’4”, 200 something pound man screaming at you will do that, especially one who has the authority to put your butt in jail with a whole bunch of other large scary men. 

Simon turned to blast her and then realized who was talking and common sense took over. He smiled, well, it was more of a grimace really, and waited for her to go on. Simon knew better than to get on the bad side of his secretary. That way led to madness, lost mail and phone calls that were never transferred. Speaking of which... 

“Blair, you have a phone call…” 

“That’s another thing that is going to stop and stop now!" Simon momentarily forgot to be polite and interrupted Rhonda. "You are all the time getting personal phone calls here. What do you think this is, your personal dating service?” Simon bit down on the cigar he had picked back up. He glared at the pale and shaking grad student, who was too stunned to move. “Well, what are you waiting for, get the damn phone.” He gestured imperiously at the telephone sitting on his desk. 

Automatically, Blair walked over and picked up the receiver, although he was physically cringing inside at the idea of getting that close to the irate captain. He looked blankly at the blinking lights on the base. “I’m sorry. I forgot to ask what line.” Blair’s voice was rough with suppressed emotion and he wouldn’t look up, so he missed the sympathetic look Rhonda gave him. 

“Line 3.” Rhonda started to say something else and then didn’t when Blair started talking on the phone. She glared, first at Simon and then Jim, then she turned around and went back to her desk. 

+-+-+-

“Yes ma’am, I completely understand,” Blair said. He was glad that the caller was too excited to hear the quaver in his voice. 

Blair sighed as he listened to the woman on the other end of the line; he was so upset that it was kind of hard to concentrate on what she was saying. The caller was an elderly witness who Jim had interviewed yesterday. For some reason she couldn’t remember Jim’s name, though she could remember Blair’s, which Blair thought was extremely odd, since he’d spoken to the older woman a grand total of two minutes at that interview. 

_“…so you see honey. I’d been watching that movie Titanic, such a sad story, and true you know. Anyway, they hit an iceberg, your last name was Sandburg, so I could remember it.”_

The elderly woman stopped talking, evidently thinking that she had stated her case perfectly. Blair's rattled mind was still trying to follow her train of reasoning when he realized that she was expecting him to say something. He wasn't sure what and with Simon glowering and Jim ignoring him, the anthropologist couldn't think straight, but he had to give it a try. 

“Uh, yes. Mnemonics are wonderful things.” 

_“Thank you, I think so too. Now, if I could only remember that other detective’s name…”_

“Ma’am, as I told you, I’m not with the police,” Blair patiently explained to the elderly woman again and flinched back at the nasty look Simon gave him. He took a hasty step to one side when it looked like the larger man was going to stand up again, pulling the phone cord out as far as it would go. “I’m just a civilian observer. The name of the detective you spoke to is Ellison.” Simon seemed to relax back in his chair and Blair stopped trying to move away. He didn't relax though, he knew enough about wild animals to know not to show any weakness to an attacking lion, and that's how his mind was classifying Banks at the moment. 

“Ellison, Ellison…hmmm." She trailed off and the only sound over the line was some static as she pondered Jim's name. "I know,” She sounded so excited. “Ellison, Ellis Island, that’s how I’ll remember him.” 

Blair winced, not sure what Jim’s reaction would be to being compared to that infamous place. Of course, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with being compared to a killer iceberg. “Yes ma’am, I’m sure that’s fine. If you’ll hold on a minute, I’ll see if Detective Ellison can talk with you.” 

Blair pushed the appropriate button on the large phone base and the woman’s voice stopped, thank goodness. Trying to listen to her and figure out what was going on with his fr...with the Captain was making his head ache. Blair felt all of the energy drain out of his body. Reluctantly, Blair stepped closer to the captain and his desk. Sandburg listlessly dropped the receiver onto the captain’s desk before he walked back to the door, which was still standing open, talking as he went. 

“That was Mrs. Simpson, the elderly witness from yesterday. She wants to talk to you, Jim.” Blair didn’t stop walking and he didn’t look back. His back was tense and his shoulders hunched. Blair was unconsciously bracing himself for another attack. 

“Sandburg.” At Simon’s growl, Blair stopped and looked back. He looked straight at Simon, refusing to even glance over at Jim, who hadn't bothered to look at Blair at all during this brief encounter. The captain started to blast the younger man again when Blair looked up at him. Simon was surprised at the blank, dead look in Blair’s normally bright and happy eyes. 

The anthropologist waited and when it was clear that Banks wasn’t going to say any more, Blair turned around and walked out the door, not bothering to shut it behind him. He pulled a note out of his pocket as he walked towards Jim’s desk, crumpling it into a small ball in his fist. The wad of paper slid out of Blair’s hand as it slackened and hit the trash can. The note bounced off the edge of the metal container and fell to the floor. Blair didn’t see that, he was too busy concentrating on walking. 

‘Just get out of here. Don’t think, don’t feel, and don’t do anything. You don’t want to let them see how much this is killing you.’ He kept repeating that to himself in the hopes that no one would be able to see the pain in his eyes. Blair didn’t know it, but that hope had long since been blown out of the water. Complete strangers could see the pain in his sapphire colored eyes, let alone people who knew him well. 

He didn’t even slow down when he got to Jim's desk, but just bent over and scooped up his backpack and jacket from the spare chair. He had obviously been wrong about it being his chair. Blair didn’t look at any of the Major Crime’s personnel; he didn’t need to see the derision and amusement in their faces. 

‘You didn’t really think you fit in here, did you?’ 

The sad truth was that he had. It was hard to have reality slammed back at him like this. It was even harder to realize what a fool he’d been. The people who hated him, for whatever reasons, were easier to handle than his _friends_. At least the other people were honest. They would snort or roll their eyes when he walked by, not pretend to be his friend and then, when he was relaxed, attack him. 

‘I wonder who else here has been pretending to like me and actually resents my presence?’ 

It was hard to breathe and even harder to walk, but Blair did it. All the way to the elevator, that as luck would have it, had just arrived, and out of the building. 

+-+-+-

Simon and Jim stood in the bullpen doorway and stared at Blair's retreating form in stunned amazement. Blair had ignored Simon’s order to “get back here, right now” and Jim’s less dictatorial “Chief?” 

The two men turned to go back inside and were met with a very irate captain of the Bomb Squad, Joel Taggart. “Excuse me, **Captain** ,” Joel put one hand in the middle of Simon’s back and pushed. “ **Detective**.” Jim’s arm was grabbed and he was shoved forward. “We need to talk.” 

Neither man thought to protest as they were unceremoniously shepherded into Simon’s office. Since Joel was behind them, they didn’t see him bend over and retrieve the note Blair had thrown away. The large man uncrumpled and smoothed the small piece of paper. He read what was scrawled there and pursed his lips in anger. 

No one in the bullpen said anything to the two men, either when they came out after Blair or when they were propelled back inside the office. Most people were simply too stunned at what they had seen and heard to say anything. Even some of those that didn’t like Blair were disappointed in the behavior of the captain and the detective. Of course, there were others who reveled in the comeuppance Blair had received. ‘Rightfully so,’ they thought. But with the arctic waves rolling around the room, **they** at least, knew better than to say anything. 

The silence was oppressive in the captain’s office. Before any of them could say anything, Rhonda stomped into the room, without knocking first, and slammed a thick sheaf of papers on to Simon’s desk. The big man jumped at the sound, much in the same way Blair had just a few minutes earlier, and stared at his secretary in amazement. 

“Here are the files that Central wanted, all _428 pages_ of them,” Rhonda snarled at Simon, further astonishing the man. His secretary was usually the epitome of calm and quiet rectitude. Even when Kincaid had taken the squad room personnel hostage and threatened to kill them all, she had remained cool and collected. Not so now, though. 

“Blair was kind enough to help me by making the copies.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the captain in disgust. “Blair has _never_ used the police department’s resources for _anything_ not related to a case he was helping with.” The young woman strode back to the door. She turned and gave a parting shot, her blond hair flying out around her. “For god’s sake, he even uses his own pencils.” Rhonda started to shut the door, but Joel stopped her. 

“No," he raised his hand up, palm out, in a stopping gesture. "Leave it open please.” 

Rhonda quickly glanced at Joel and nodded at the resolve she saw on his face. Although unspoken, it was understood that, for the most part, they were really the only two who could stick up for Blair and get away with it. Rhonda could, because she ran the department for Simon and he would be lost without her. Joel was able to, because as a captain, he was of equal rank with Simon and therefore on equal footing. 

Joel turned back and the two men were shocked to see what amounted to hatred in his eyes. The bomb squad captain had the most expressive, soft brown eyes. It was painful to see them looking like that. Generally a person had to be a rapist or murderer, or some other low life criminal, before Joel looked at them in that way. 

“Did I miss something here?" Joel waved a hand around, indicating the office. "Is there a different dimension in here?" Joel looked around sarcastically. "Blair didn’t barge in, he knocked politely. You grunted and he, like everyone else, translated that from Simon to English and got ‘come in’.” 

Simon started to protest and Taggart pointed at Banks' desk and snarled, “Sit down and shut up. As a fellow captain, I’m the only one who can feasibly confront you over this. You had your say and now you’re going to listen.” He swung his arm towards Jim. “Both of you.” 

Once both men were seated, Joel continued, wielding the message slip. “This note says that you called Blair. Or at least someone saying they were from the police department did. It might have been a trick, that wouldn’t surprise me. There are several jackasses who treat the kid like dirt.” Joel looked at both men, obviously including them in the list. “Of course, I heard you bellowing earlier that you wanted Blair here, so that might be it too.” 

Simon sucked in a quick breath. He had forgotten that he asked Blair to be called. It had been such a hectic day…he had just forgotten. He glanced from the note in Joel's hand to the thick stack of copied requisitions. He remembered now that some hard ass in Bookkeeping wanted to go over _every_ requisition that had been made for the past month. Apparently, Blair had taken over that long and tedious chore for Rhonda, just like he had taken over Ellison's paperwork for him. 

“Jim…” Simon jumped when Taggart resumed his tirade; Jim flinched back from the bomb squad captain's pointed finger. “…you told Blair to park in the police lot. I heard you say it months ago and Blair has been parking there ever since. "You," he pointed a finger at Ellison again, "said that Simon approved it. Blair believed you…apparently that was a mistake.” 

Jim started to protest and Joel just looked at him, daring him to try and defend himself. Ellison shut his mouth and looked down at his hands. He knew there was no defense for the way he had treated Blair. 

Taggart lowered his voice, so only the three of them could hear it, instead of the whole squad room, and leaned towards them. The two men unconsciously followed his example and moved in closer to him. “You know, if you didn’t want people to know you were a couple, you should have just acted normal.” Jim’s head shot up, so did Simon’s. “Distancing yourself only had everybody watching you closer.” Joel got in Jim’s face and hissed. “Nobody cares who you’re sleeping with. Get over yourself.” 

The irate captain flicked a glance over to Simon as he kept speaking to Jim. “You’re going to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you. I hate to tell you this…” Again, another look towards Banks. “…but this career will be over in a few years and nights are really cold and long when you’re by yourself.” 

He stood back up and in a deliberately louder voice, he continued, “Things have been shitty all day, hell, all week. What with the computers deciding to die on us at the same time we have an audit sprung on us.” He looked Banks right in the eye. “You took your frustrations out on Blair, the only person you could, the only one who was unable to stand up to you. Jim, you sat there and let your friend and partner be assaulted.” Joel finally had enough and stomped to the door, before leaving he turned one more time. “By the way, if you ever abuse your authority and threaten to have Blair, or anybody else, arrested like that again, I will personally report your sorry ass to the Commissioner. _Captain_.” 

Joel slammed the door shut behind him. The glass in the door and the windows facing the bullpen quivered dangerously, but held. The rest of Major Crimes looked daggers at the two of them. 

“I, I have to meet a witness; the woman that just called.” Jim’s jaw was clenched and the vein in his temple throbbed with suppressed emotion. 

“I’ll go with you.” Simon was little better. 

Everyone pointedly ignored them as they left. 

+-+-+-

Blair slid partway down the wall of the elevator and fought the urge to throw up. Not that there was anything much in his stomach to come up anyway. He’d been so busy at the university and then in so much of a hurry to get to Jim, that the anthropologist hadn’t had a chance to eat at all that day, except for a few bites of an apple early that morning. 

Pushing himself back into an upright position, he was profoundly grateful that for once the elevator was empty. Or at least he would have been, if he’d been aware of anything other than his breaking heart. Apparently a broken heart filled up an empty stomach. 

The anthropologist straightened up as the doors began to open. He walked quickly and silently across the lobby and out the door. Several people spoke to him and were stunned when the normally very friendly young man didn’t even notice them. 

Blair got into his Corvair and sat there a few moments taking deep breaths to calm himself before he drove home. He wasn’t so upset that he would risk causing an accident. The young man valued other people’s lives, even if he didn’t value his own much at this moment. 

+-+-+-

Walking into the loft, Blair looked around his home and came to the devastating conclusion that he was mistaken about that notion, as well. This place was Jim’s home, not his. Blair leaned back against the front door and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down quickly, as he tried not to give in to the tears that were threatening the back of his eyes. 

“Never was and never will be.” 

With that thought, Blair broke down and started sobbing. He slid down the door and sat on the floor in the living room and cried for what seemed like forever. Eventually his instincts, honed by Naomi over the years, kicked in. If Jim’s attitude was any indication, he wouldn’t want Blair around anymore. So, Blair decided to make a preemptive strike and leave on his own. He had no idea where he would end up, but that was nothing new to Blair. The young man was used to being on the move and Blair knew that he’d figure out somewhere to stay until he could find a new place to live. 

Blair wrote a note that simply said, “Gone fishing,” wondering briefly why he was even bothering to give an explanation. 

He decided that he would go camping, that way he wouldn't be telling a lie. That was one solution, temporary though it was, to his housing problem. Blair could camp out for this long weekend and then when he came back to the university on Tuesday, he would worry about finding a more permanent residence. Right now he just didn't have the energy or the heart to go apartment searching. 

The young man began packing an overnight bag, shoving random items inside, not really paying attention to what he was doing. In the living room, the phone began to ring. 

“Let the machine pick it up. If it’s Jim, I don’t want to talk to him. If it’s anybody else, I can’t talk to them,” Blair said out loud. 

After five rings, the answering machine clicked on. Jim’s voice rang out in the quiet loft. Against his will, Blair stopped to listen to his lover’s voice. 

“You have reached the home of Jim Ellison… _And Blair Sandburg_ …” Blair’s laughing voice interrupted. On the tape, Jim snorted a little. “…p-please leave a message at the tone.” 

Blair’s stomach clenched as he remembered making that tape. It had been right after they made love for the first time. Somehow the taped message had been accidentally erased and Jim noticed it when they got out of bed to get something to eat. Both men had been naked and Blair was standing in the kitchen eating ice cream out of the carton. Jim had choked when he had seen his new lover’s tongue licking the ice cream off his face. 

“…this is Sea. I’ve got a job for you if you’re interested. But it’s got to be done this weekend. Call me if…” The enthusiastic voice broke into Blair's memories. 

Blair grabbed up the phone, stopping the message in mid-delivery. “Hang on a minute Sea; let me turn the machine off.” Buttons were fumbled before the tape stopped recording. “Okay, I’m back. What’s this job you’re talking about?” 

“I know this guy who needs to have his personal library catalogued and he’s willing to pay $2,000 for it.” 

“Two _thousand_ dollars!” Blair’s voice rose in surprise. 

“Yeah, neat isn’t it?” Sea sounded pleased to give Blair this opportunity. “The only problem is that he wants it done by next Tuesday. Sooner if you can. In fact, he says that you’ll get a bonus if you finish it before then. Apparently there’s some place he’s got to be on Tuesday.” 

Blair rubbed his forehead tiredly. He’d really been looking forward to the next several days off. His batteries were seriously worn down. Thinking back to the scene in Simon’s office, Blair realized that relaxation wouldn’t have been in his future, no matter what. 

“Well, at least I won’t have to camp out…or stay at a motel. Not that I have the money to stay anyplace and it is damned cold out to be parked in some tent,” Blair muttered. 

“What? What was that?” Sea queried over the phone. 

“Nothing, just talking to myself.” Blair took a fortifying breath and smiled brightly, even though there wasn’t anyone to see it. “That sounds great. Give me the directions and I can be there in an hour or so.” 

After listening to the rather lengthy instructions on how to get to The Aerie, as the client, Mr. Lawrence’s, house was known, Blair hung up. But not before he reassured his friend that no, he wasn’t too tired and that no, nothing was the matter. 

“Thanks Sea, this is a real lifesaver.” 

The young anthropologist got his clothes together. The phone call from his old friend had cleared Blair’s mind a little bit. He made a point of getting everything of his out of Jim’s room. Not that there was a lot in Ellison’s bedroom; most of Blair’s things were still in his old bedroom. 

With one last look around the loft, Blair walked out. He left behind the brief, cryptic and totally unhelpful note for Jim and a partial message from Sea, on the answering machine, which he forgot to erase. 

+-+-+-

Thirty minutes later, a disgruntled Blair walked back into the loft. 

“Man, I just don’t believe this crappy day.” 

Blair threw down his overnight bag and thumped his backpack on the kitchen table. Digging through the books and paperwork, Blair found his address book and quickly looked up Sea’s phone number. 

“Hello.” 

The young man winced at how chipper Sea sounded. He briefly wondered if he sounded like that to Jim and if so, why the hell hadn’t Jim killed him months ago. 

“Hey, man.” 

“Blair, is something the matter?” 

“Yeah.” Blair sighed. “My damn car won’t start again. Is there any way you can give me a lift?” 

“Oh, sure. No problem. Give me a couple of minutes to change clothes and I’ll be right over.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Bye.” Sea practically chirped into the phone. 

+-+-+-

Blair sat on the edge of the couch and waited uneasily. He glanced around the room, closing his eyes in pain when he realized this would probably be the last time this would be even nominally his home. 

Resolutely, the young man stood up. He wouldn’t wait for Jim to throw him out; he would save his lover, his ex-lover, the time and de-Blair the loft himself. 

Several boxes were brought up from the basement. They were dusty and Blair sneezed. He automatically opened the balcony doors so Jim’s senses wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Blair never even realized what he had done, that he went out of his way, all the time, to make life easier for his Sentinel. 

Books were pulled from the shelves, leaving them barren and empty looking. The tomes were carefully packed up and the several boxes placed in one corner of Blair’s old bedroom. 

Cassettes and CD’s of Blair’s “funky music” were put away. He gathered up and folded the East Indian blanket that he had given to Jim. It was removed from the couch and carefully placed in Jim’s linen closet. That way it was out of the way if Jim didn’t really like having it around, but was still Ellison’s, because it had been a present. 

Quickly, very quickly, the main room was being emptied of his presence. 

Pulling open the kitchen cabinets, Blair drug out his spices and mild seasonings, and put them in a plastic grocery sack, along with all of his teas. The few items barely filled the bottom of the shopping bag. There really wasn’t much of his stuff in the apartment, despite how often Jim griped about it. 

Blair was going through the cabinet when he spotted the coffee cup he had given Jim for a present early on in their friendship. It had a drawing of a police car on the front with flashing red lights and read “Cops do it better with flashers”. 

The anthropologist had seen the many and varied coffee cups at the station and wanted his friend to have a humorous one of his own. Everyone, even Simon, had at least one funny cup. 

Jim had not used the cup once. Not even in the safety of the loft. As far as Blair knew, it hadn’t been out of the cupboard since Jim put it there several months ago. 

Blair stared at the gift. It seemed to sum up his and Jim’s lack of a relationship. Without any expression on his face at all, Blair tossed the cup into the trash can. It crunched as it hit the bottom of the empty can. 

Leaving the kitchen, Blair spotted his African mask propped up on Jim’s mantel. He had just put it up a month ago and although Jim hadn’t said anything, he had seen the Sentinel eyeing the antique warily. 

The mask was summarily scooped up as well. Blair shoved everything into the spare room and went outside to wait for Sea. 

Behind him, the quiet of the loft was broken. Blair didn’t hear the phone begin to ring and wouldn’t have answered it if he had. 

+-+-+-

Across town 

Jim snapped his cell phone closed. He looked over at Simon and shook his head unnecessarily. The Captain heard Jim’s failure to reach Blair. It was another painful reminder of their failure as friends. They couldn’t even apologize to the young man they had so badly wronged. 

Simon was being kept occupied by Mrs. Simpson, the elderly witness. She was going on and on about her memory game, the one she used to keep track of people’s names. 

The Captain was chagrined to realize that this little old woman was the one he had accused Blair of setting up a date with. He winced inside as he thought of _all_ of the things he had accused Blair of. 

‘Heaven help me. Did I really threaten to put him in lockup?’ 

Simon’s stomach rolled at the idea of Blair Sandburg, with his long hair and earrings, in the station lockup. He could just see the small, slender man being surrounded by some of the rougher denizens. 

‘They would eat him alive,’ Simon chastised himself. 

He shuddered in dismay and tried to imagine how afraid that idea must have made Blair. As a big man, Simon never had to worry about being picked on…but there was that one time when he had been surrounded by all those men… 

Putting one large hand over his mouth to hold back the pain, Simon Banks remembered the fear and the pain of that long ago time when those bullies had decided to teach him a lesson for being a better football player than they were. With something akin to horror, Simon realized that this time, he was the bully. 

+-+-+-

Jim rescued Simon from Mrs. Simpson. He could see that his friend was at his wits end, although he didn’t understand the distressed look on the Captain’s face. 

He knew he had hurt his lover immeasurably when he didn’t stand up for him with Simon. Jim realized that Taggart had been right. His and Blair’s love life wasn’t anybody’s business and truthfully, if he had to make himself see the truth, most people seemed happy that Blair was living with Jim. They had probably thought he and Blair were sleeping together long before the experience actually took place. 

“Thank you, ma’am. That’s all we need right now.” Jim smiled and she stopped chattering. “If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.” Jim pulled out a card with his number at the station. 

“Certainly detective. I do hope that I didn’t get that nice Mr. Sandburg in trouble. I know he’s not a police officer, he told me that several times, but I just couldn’t remember anyone else’s name.” 

“No ma’am, he didn’t get in trouble.” Simon and Jim both looked sad as Jim lied. 

‘Why didn’t I say something? Stick up for Blair, like he always does for me.’ Jim berated himself. ‘Joel’s right. If I don’t do something, quick, I’m going to lose Blair. I couldn’t stand that; he’s the only person I’ve ever loved.’ 

‘What I had with Carolyn wasn’t love and we both knew it. It was a marriage of convenience. Not that we didn’t have sex. No, it was convenient for her to be married to someone who had a family as wealthy as mine.’ 

Jim shook his head as he continued to berate himself. ‘I tried to tell her that I didn’t have anything to do with my family, but she wouldn’t listen. She was convenient for me, because she hid my homosexuality. Nobody has ever suspected that I like guys.’ Jim’s mind paused. ‘Except, maybe they have. Joel obviously knows and he didn’t care. Apart from how I’m abusing Blair… Am I abusing him?’ 

Jim thought for a few moments, memories flashing across his mind. From almost the first moment he had met Blair, Jim had been physical with the smaller man. He had thrown Blair against the wall of his office at that first _real_ meeting. Jim winced when he thought about all the times that Blair had taken the brunt of his temper and fluctuating senses. 

‘Damn, I guess I am abusing him.’ 

Jim and Simon silently walked back to Simon’s car. The Captain had refused to let Jim drive. Each man was silently rebuking himself and wondering what he could do to make it up to Blair. 

+-+-+-

“…so, I tell you, David and Paul were fit to be tied. Hmmm, I wonder where that phrase came from? That would make an interesting study. Just think of all the little sayings and idioms we use every day…” 

Blair listened to his friend chatter with one ear. He was really tired and not looking forward to using his precious free time cataloguing a private library. His lips began to tremble as Blair realized what had been lost that afternoon: his ride along status, his research paper, his home, his…Jim. 

Sea patted Blair’s leg sympathetically and the younger man realized they had stopped at a red light. He smiled up at his friend and opened his mouth to apologize for tuning him out. He never got the chance before his world exploded. 

Blair’s body lurched forward as something hit them from behind; luckily the seat belt prevented him from slamming into the dash. The car jolted as it was pushed into the oncoming traffic. Immediately they were hit again, this time on the driver’s side rear bumper. The car spun around sickeningly. Around and around it went, everything outside a dizzying blur, before, finally, the car slid across the pavement and Blair’s door slammed into a light pole. 

Blair raised one arm up in protection as he saw the light pole coming towards his window. The anthropologist felt the glass cutting his arm as he was jerked to the side again. As his head cracked against the window, darkness claimed him in victory. 

“jim,” The younger man’s whispered cry to his lover followed him into the darkness. 

+-+-+-

Blair could hear crying. He struggled up through the swirling lights, pulling himself towards the sound. It was a frightened sound, one that he needed to help. 

“Don’t die. Don’t die.” It was Sea. He was the one begging Blair. 

The anthropologist opened his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. An interesting pattern was in front of Blair’s eyes and he decided to study it for a while. 

‘That would make a nice design on a piece of wall art.’ 

He slowly raised a hand and touched the design, only to gasp in surprise when it shattered. Blair fell partway out of the car when the broken window collapsed into a hundred pieces of safety glass. That broke him out of the fugue state he had momentarily been in. 

“Blair! Blair! Please wake up,” Sea sobbed. 

Blair turned his head slowly and looked at his friend. The other man’s face was red and blotchy from the hysterical tears running down his pale face. 

“Sea, I’m alright.” Nothing. The other man’s terror was too great. “Sebastian!” The use of his friend’s full name did the trick. 

“Blair?” 

“Yeah. Calm down. I’m alright, man.” 

Actually, Blair wasn’t so sure of that. His head hurt, he was dizzy and his eyes didn’t seem to be focusing correctly. Plus, his arm hurt like a son of a bitch, as did his chest and stomach. 

Looking down, Blair could see a long cut on his right arm. That was what was causing the stinging that was getting worse by the second. 

“Is anybody hurt?” 

Blair looked out of where his side window used to be. It took less time for his eyes to focus this time. There was an older man who seemed to be very concerned, looking back at him. Blair absently noticed that the man had an apron on that seemed to be covered with chocolate. 

“Uhm, no. Or not too bad anyway.” Blair hoped that made sense. He knew one of them needed to answer the kind man, but Sea didn’t seem capable at the moment. 

“Oh god, oh god! We’ve got to get you out of here. You’re going to die.” Sea grabbed hold of Blair’s good arm and started to tug on him. 

“Son, don’t do that. Your friend might have a spinal cord injury.” 

Sebastian didn’t hear him. He continued to cry and pull on Blair’s arm. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay. Calm down now. We’re fine, I’m fine.” Blair turned back to their Good Samaritan. “He was in a car wreck a couple of years ago. His fiancé died when the car caught fire and he couldn’t get her seat belt unhooked.” 

The older man looked horrified at the tale. He glanced back into the interior of the car and gasped. Blair twisted back to his friend and saw him wielding a wickedly sharp looking piece of glass. 

“Sea…what are you doing?” Blair thought he was doing a fairly good job at sounding calm. Inside, he was scared stiff at what his very distraught friend might accidentally do. 

“I’m going to cut the seat belt loose.” 

“Whoa. Wait a minute. Why don’t you try opening it first?” 

Sea blinked confusedly for a minute. He dropped the piece of glass. Both Blair and their friend standing outside the car breathed a sigh of relief. Blair’s sigh quickly turned into a moan as his friend’s frantic tugging on his seat belt drug the security device across his already sore abdomen. 

“It won’t open!” Sea was crying again and frantically looked for some more glass. Eager to divert his attention, Blair offered another solution. 

“Why don’t you use your utility knife?” Sebastian paused and looked at him hopefully. “It’s in your backpack…in the back seat.” 

The scared man began to root around in the back of the car, searching for his errant backpack. Things had been slung around so much in the wreck that it took him several frantic minutes to find the pack. By then, rescue crews had arrived and sedated Sebastian. 

“You’re going to be alright, son.” 

The older man stayed with Blair as Sebastian was extracted from the car and his own jammed seat belt was cut open. The older man talked soothingly to Blair. Several times he stopped himself from patting the anthropologist on the shoulder; he didn’t know what other injuries Blair might be hiding under the several layers of clothing. 

Blair groaned as he was laid out on the backboard, a cervical collar was placed around his neck. He was sore and aching and the rigidity of the board wasn’t helping anything. His arm and head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, which was going 100 mph. The cacophony of sounds from the different sirens and people yelling, made Blair’s head feel like it was swelling up to the size of a small watermelon. 

Somewhere behind him, Blair could hear a woman screaming, so he assumed that other people had been injured in the wreck as well. 'I hope everybody is okay,' he thought. The stretcher jolted as it bumped against the back of the ambulance and pain shot out from his aching head and made the world gray out for a moment. It was over so quickly, though, that the paramedics didn't even have time to notice. 

The anthropologist felt a warm hand pat his and opened his eyes in time to see the nice man who had helped him and Sea. "Take care, son." 

"thanks," Blair whispered. 

+-+-+-

"Are you sure, Blair?" Paul asked as he glanced around the room. "It's no big deal for us to give you a ride home. As a matter of fact, we’d be glad to." 

Blair smiled at the blond man. He started to shake his head and then decided that wouldn't be a smart idea, or even a possibility. Blair had a stiff neck, due to the wreck, and was going home in a neck brace that held his head immobile and was uncomfortable as hell in the bargain. 

"No, it's fine. Jim'll probably be here any minute now." 

"Well...okay." Paul, Sea’s other friend, the brunette, looked over at David and frowned. Blair felt warmed at their protective attitude. 

"We better get going then," David said as he carefully hooked one arm through Sea's elbow and helped the shaky man stand. Sebastian wasn’t injured, beyond a few bumps and bruises, but he had been so unnerved by the wreck that the fellow student was going home on sedatives. Because of this, he was temporarily unsteady on his feet. Blair wasn't too worried about his friend, because all three men lived in the same house and the two older men would look after Sea. 

"Take care now, Blair," Paul said when they had steadied their friend enough for him to walk alright. All three men waved as they walked out the emergency room door. 

"I will. You take care too." 

Blair leaned back in the waiting room chair, his head resting against the wall. "I wonder where Jim is." Blair closed his eyes and thought. "I did call him...didn't I?" The fuzzy head he had from the mild concussion wasn't making it easy to think. 

With a slight gasp, Blair sat up straighter as the events from earlier in the day reran through his mind. Jim wasn't coming, because Jim was pissed off at him for some reason. Blair thought that Jim might come if he called, but Blair didn't want to risk another nasty scene. 

‘Or that he might not come,’ a small voice in the back of Blair’s mind said. He shook off such depressing thoughts and regretted it immediately, because it made his head feel like it was going to roll off his shoulders and across the dirty linoleum floor. Blair was fairly certain that Jim's sense of duty would compel him to come pick up and take care of Blair, if for no other reason than he felt responsible for the grad student. The last thing Blair wanted was for Jim to feel beholden to him; he'd rather be alone. The pain of being by himself was a lot easier to handle than looks of pity. 

He stood up and slowly limped out the door. The limp was the result of a gash he had on his leg that had been bandaged; there were several stitches that the bandage hid from view. Blair hoped that none of the hospital staff saw him walking to the bus stop on the corner. He had told the doctor that he had someone coming for him; otherwise the physician would have kept him in the hospital overnight. Blair hadn't lied to him, not consciously anyway. In all the confusion he had just forgotten the falling out with his lover. The anthropologist guessed that the wreck had knocked the nasty scene in the captain's office clean out of his head. 

'It's too bad I couldn't have lost it entirely,' Blair thought with a pang. 'Amnesia doesn't sound too bad right now.' 

Blair eased a hand into his jean pocket and extracted the correct change for the bus. It had to be the bus, although a cab would have been a lot more comfortable, because Blair didn't have the money to afford anything else. He managed to shuffle to the corner, just as the big city bus arrived. 

Getting up the high metal steps and onto the bus was an interesting experience and one that the anthropologist sincerely hoped he'd not be repeating any time in the near future. Or ever. But then what could you expect from a man with a mild concussion, the stiff neck, complete with cervical collar, 36 stitches in his arm, bruised and wrapped ribs that were still hurting from impact with the seat belt and air bag? Oh yes, and his stiff and hurting leg. 

Not much, if Blair was any judge. 

The young man sat down on the nearest empty seat he could find, which, as luck would have it, was only the 3rd bench behind the driver, and sighed in relief. He was so glad that his prescriptions for pain medicine and antibiotics had been filled for him at the hospital pharmacy. That little courtesy had eliminated the necessity of stopping at an outside pharmacy, which would have meant climbing up and down the bus steps again. It helped too, because of that most basic deficit in his life, money. Blair wouldn't have had the cash necessary to buy the medications if they hadn't been attached to his hospital bill. Luckily that pricey invoice would go on Sea’s car insurance. 

Now, the only problem was where he should go next. After a few minutes’ worth of deliberation, in the bus that lurched him around every time it started and stopped, Blair realized that he had nowhere else to go but back to the loft. He slumped as best he could, since he was wrapped up like a modern day mummy, and sighed. Finding someplace else to stay, even temporarily, while he was banged up wasn't going to be fun. 

+-+-+-

"Are you certain, Mr. Sandburg?" The man on the other end of the phone line sounded concerned. His soft voice came through clearly and lulled Blair into a false sense of security. False, of course, because he didn't know this guy from Adam and, in all likelihood, he would see him for a few days while Blair worked for him and then never again. If Blair got to work for him. Hopefully... 

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair, I'm sure I could still do it," Blair said with as much sincerity as he could muster up at the moment. 

Truthfully, Blair didn't want to do anything but curl up in the big bed upstairs and have his lover hold Blair in his arms and tell him this day had all been a bad dream. Realistically, Blair knew that wouldn't happen, so he had to make do with the situation he was stuck with and Sinclair's job was the best he could hope for. 

"Well..." 

Blair knew he had to do something drastic or this job and the much needed salary, not to mention a place to stay, would disappear in a heartbeat. "The truth is, I need the money. My car needs a lot of work and this is the only way I can afford to get it done. I'll probably be a lot slower than I would have been otherwise, but I can get the job done." 

There, he'd done it. Blair had admitted the truth. It was up to his possible employer to decide whether he still had the job or not. Blair guessed it depended on how desperate Mr. Sinclair really was to get his library catalogued by next week. There was silence for a moment and Blair slumped against the pillar in the living room, sure that he was out of all that money. 

"I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Sandburg. Fine, you surely know your own mind." 

The old joke from the Airplane movie, 'Don't call me Shirley.' flashed through Blair's mind and he had to suppress the desire to giggle insanely. It had been that kind of day, after all. 

"How about if I send a cab for you?" Blair started to demure, thinking of his empty pockets, when the other man seemed to realize his dilemma and quickly offered, "my treat." Blair was tired enough and relieved enough to want to cry. 

"That would be very kind of you, Mr. Sinclair." 

"Call me Daniel. May I call you Blair?" 

"Of course." 

"Alright, I will see you soon." 

+-+-+-

“Simon, what the hell possessed me?” Jim strangled the steering wheel between his tightly clenched hands. The older plastic cover creaked dangerously under the grip. Ellison forced himself to loosen his hold, knowing that he was going to tear something up if he didn't settle down soon. 

“Shit, Jim, what got in to both of us?” Simon leaned his head onto the hand that was resting on the arm rest and stared out the side window at the passing scenery. Neither man was paying much attention to the other one; they were both wrapped up in their guilt and shame. 

Ellison slowed down as he came close to an intersection, hoping that the light would change from red to green before he had to come to a complete stop. The Sentinel narrowed his eyes as he saw the remnants of a multi-car pile-up still partially blocking the thoroughfare. His cop instincts kicked in as he noted how many of the cars were moderately damaged and how many were going to be "totaled out" by the insurance companies. Seeing all the twisted wreckage, Jim guessed that most of the cars were goners. 

“What’s this?” Simon asked when he finally paid attention to what was going on outside of his mind. The big man straightened up in his seat, glad of something to take his mind off the fiasco in his office. He narrowed his eyes as he too scanned the wreckage. 

“A wreck,” Jim said unnecessarily. 

"Do you smell any gasoline?" the older man asked nervously. When he'd been a beat cop, Simon had worked on a wreck where one of the cars had exploded, long after anyone thought there would still be a danger, so he had been hyper conscious of that sort of danger ever since. 

“It's several hours old though, so nothing we need to worry about…” Jim trailed off as something tantalized his nose. Ellison took a deep breath and almost choked as the smells of the street filled his senses. Dog manure was over to one side of the street and human excrement from the homeless on the other side was strong. Over all that was spilled oil, brake fluid and yes, a little gasoline. His sharp eyes could see that the minor spill had been dealt with already. "There is some gas, but it's been cleaned up already." Jim took another breath and smelled...blood. He wrenched the wheel sharply to one side and pulled over to the side of the road, much to the cop directing traffic’s disapproval. It was his responsibility to move gawkers on and that’s what Jim and Simon seemed to be. 

“Jim? What…” 

The Captain was startled when the detective erupted out of the truck like lava boiling out of a volcano and stalked over to one of the cars. Simon jumped from his side of the truck, pulling out his badge out as he moved, trying to minimize the damage. “Cascade PD,” he called out. 

The officer in charge of the wreckage relaxed visibly. It was never good to charge at a policeman, especially in a larger city like Cascade. Officer Thompson had lost too many friends to “road rage” and the first guy out of the truck had looked crazed. 

“What happened here?” Simon asked in his best _Captain_ voice, attempting to distract the officer from his best detective who was, quite frankly, sniffing the car like a K9 dog looking for drugs. And he definitely was _not_ ever going to share that comparison with his best detective. The Captain listened with one ear to what the patrolman was saying and watched Ellison warily with the rest of his attention. 

“It’s Blair’s blood.” Jim raced towards Simon, his eyes intent. He looked so intent, and yes a little crazed, that Simon was able to see why Officer Thompson had been so worried. Simon was good friends with Jim, but he also knew what Ellison's military training had made him capable of. 

Simon gasped when he realized what Jim had said. He looked anxiously at the car and could see that the passenger side door was crushed in. 'Damn,' he swore to himself. 'Why do these things always happen to Sandburg? First the Switchman, then Kincaid, Lash and that damn cold bitch Maya Carasco. He has the shit's own luck..." 

“Where’s the man who was in that car?” Simon’s voice shook. 

“They were all taken to Cascade General.” 

"They?" Simon asked. 

“How badly was he hurt?” Jim interrupted intently. 

“Uh,” The officer flinched back as Jim got right in his face. “Who, sir?” 

“Blair Sandburg,” Simon added quickly. 

“Well, sir, there were two women injured…” 

Jim growled at the officer who blinked in surprise. “No,” Simon added quickly, “Blair is a man.” 

The officer thought for a moment and then shook his head in denial. “I’m not sure of any individual, but I know that one of the men was bleeding pretty badly and another one was unconscious when he was taken away. I don’t know if the person you are looking for was one of them, but all of the victims were hurt in one degree or another.” He turned to Simon, as the most superior officer now on the scene. "And yes sir, they were all transported to the local hospital." The young man shook his head and looked at the mess still needing to be cleaned up. “This was a nasty one.” 

“Were there any…fatalities?” Simon asked the critical question and waited. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jim twitched at the question and was trying to decide what he would do if the Sentinel lost control. 

“Yes, sir. One person was DOA, but that was an older woman. She appears to have been the cause of the wreck; she had a heart attack and struck that vehicle from behind.” The young man pointed to the car that Jim had said that Blair was in. 

Simon’s breath whooshed out and caught him by surprise; he hadn’t even realized he was holding it. Jim gasped and stumbled against the bigger captain. The relief of the two men, that Blair wasn't the one who had died, was unmistakable. 

“Cascade General,” Simon confirmed. The officer nodded and watched as Simon drug Jim to the truck, shoved him into the passenger seat, despite the Sentinel's protests, and they drove away. 

+-+-+-

Jim had his seat belt off and jumped out of the vehicle before Simon could come to a stop, let alone find a parking space. “Ellison!” he yelled. That didn’t slow the Sentinel down one iota; he kept on running. “Damn, that man is going to be the death of me yet,” Simon grumbled. He quickly found a place to park Jim's truck and raced towards the entrance. The words Emergency Room were lit up in neon over the automatic sliding doors. 

Simon followed along behind the trail of the Sentinel…it wasn’t hard to do. All Simon had to do was follow the stunned and/or frightened looking people hugging the walls. Simon groaned to himself, glad that Jim hadn't been alone when he'd come up on the wreck. 

The Captain arrived at the emergency room desk just in time to avert a disaster. 

+-+-+-

'Blair's hurt. I've got to get to Blair. Protect the Guide.' 

This mantra started playing in Jim's head the moment he recognized the scent of Blair's blood and fear at the wreck. It kept looping around in his mind as they raced towards the hospital. 

He knew that there were a lot of degrees between dead and all right. Jim couldn't stand the thought that his lover might be dying while they were, even now, heading towards him. The idea that Blair’s sad and hurt face as it left the precinct would be the last time Jim ever saw him was just too horrible to contemplate. 

Jim stumbled a little as he jumped out of the truck. He hadn't been paying attention and had thought that Simon had stopped the truck already. The slight pain in his right ankle seemed only fitting to his worried mind. He had let Blair be hurt at the station, so it was his turn. Ellison didn't even notice the people that he barreled over in his hurry to find Blair. 

"Blair Sandburg." 

The clerk at the Emergency Room desk jumped and looked up at him in wide eyed wonderment. Although startled, she didn't seem too frightened. Certainly, the bulletproof glass that was between them helped a little. 

"Sir?" 

"B-Blair Sandburg. He was brought here, from a several car pileup. I need to see him." 

She glanced over to a white, dry-erase board and scanned it quickly. "He's not in here now," she informed the agitated man. "He may have been admitted upstairs." 

"How badly was he hurt? Where is he?" Several people were looking at him now, craning their necks to watch the unfolding drama. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't give out that kind of information," she said soothingly. "It is against the privacy laws. Unless...are you a family member." Jim's head jerked in denial and the woman's face softened with pity. "You could go up to Admissions and see if your friend is in a room, but otherwise..." she trailed off with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. 

Jim wanted to hit something. Instead he tried to extend his senses and find his missing Guide that way. It was risky, because the possibility of zoning out was very high in a tense situation like this. The Sentinel was hovering, just at the edge of a zone out, when Simon caught up with him. The touch of the big man's hand on his back was startling enough that it shocked him back to awareness. 

"...see. Okay then, may I speak to someone in charge." Ellison saw that the captain had his badge out and mentally smacked himself on the head for not thinking of that himself. Technically, Simon shouldn't be using his authority that way, it's not like Blair was a suspect or something, but Jim was glad that the older man wasn't going by the strict letter of the law. 

"May I help you, gentlemen?" 

They turned towards the voice to see a younger man, with sandy blond hair, coming out from behind the electronic doors that kept people from entering the back rooms where the patients were being worked on. As the man got closer, Jim realized that the doctor was older than he appeared at first glance. Threads of silver were intermixed with the light colored hair and fine lines bracketed the firm mouth. The maturity of the doctor reassured Ellison more than he knew it should. Age, he knew, had nothing to do with ability. After all, Blair was young and he was more than capable of doing most anything he set his mind to. 

Simon explained the situation to the doctor, who was more than glad to help. It was amazing what doors a police captain's badge could open. 

"He was badly banged up and I wanted to keep him overnight. I tried to reassure him that his friend's car insurance would pay for any bills, but Mr. Sandburg was adamant about going home. He said that he had a roommate that would keep an eye on him tonight and there was no reason to make the insurance company pay for a bed when he had a perfectly good one of his own." 

"Yes, that would be me. I'm his roommate." Jim started to get up and go back to the loft, desperate to see his lover for himself, but then the Sentinel decided he should clarify what 'banged up' actually entailed. He leaned forward anxiously. "What is it I need to keep an eye on?" 

"Mainly the concussion," Dr. Anderson said quietly. 

They were sitting in a small conference room off to one side. Jim wondered if this was where people were taken when they were going to be informed that a loved one had died. The room was painted in soothing pastels and had chairs that were far more comfortable than anywhere else in the hospital. 

"However," Anderson continued, "what he mainly needs is a little tlc. He was battered around quite a bit in the wreck and was really shook up." The doctor smiled and stood up, indicating that the meeting was over. Jim figured that the doctor had given out all the information he needed to. 

"Thank you for all your help, doctor." Simon stuck out his hand and the doctor shook it, his paler hand virtually being swallowed up by Simon's more massive one. "Come on, Jim. Let's go find Sandburg." 

The two men hurried out to the truck, which thankfully hadn't been towed, no matter how creative Simon's parking had been, and quickly drove away. Neither one of them said anything as they raced back to the loft. Simon was thankful that Blair wasn't more seriously injured and Jim was depressed to realize that his lover hadn't felt comfortable in calling Jim when he was hurt. 

It was a very quiet ride. 

+-+-+-

"He's not here." It could have been a statement or a question, but Simon's comment went unanswered either way. 

"I can smell...tape and antiseptics, but no Blair." Jim turned back to Simon, his hands on his hips. "He was here, but has been gone for a while now." 

"Where the hell would he go, as injured as he is?" 

"I don't know." Jim grabbed up the phone and dialed the university. Blair's voice mail clicked on, sending out a message in Blair's cheerful voice, and Ellison hung up. "He's not there either." The policeman knew that Blair always answered the phone if he was there. Blair could no more ignore a ringing phone than he could a cry for help. 

"Jim." Simon was holding out the note that Blair had left, his eyes sad. "Surely to God he wouldn't try to go camping..." Simon shook his head. 

"No, I don't think so..." Jim saw the light blinking on the answering machine and felt a spark of hope. He hit the playback button and listened to the partial message by Blair's friend and the bit of a conversation between the two of them that had been inadvertently recorded. 

"C, who's C?" Simon asked in exasperation. He had run down criminals in less time than it was taking to find one injured anthropology student. 

"I don't know," Jim stated. "I've never heard of him before." 

Ellison picked up Blair's tattered address book and started leafing through the pages. Several of the pages were loose and fell onto the floor like confetti. Simon picked up the fallen papers and helped with the search. They were looking for someone whose name started with the letter "C", either first or last name. There were several "C's" in the book, but after quite a bit of frantic calling, none of them turned out to be the right one. 

Simon stayed with Jim as he drove around Cascade looking for the young man. They checked at the library, several bookstores that Blair liked to frequent, Sandburg's office at Rainier, they even check at his favorite health food store, on the off chance that the younger man wanted "healthier" homeopathic remedies. Still no Blair. 

Banks called in a HAAPB, a half-assed All Points Bulletin. That was something that the local cops had cooked up. It wasn't an official APB, but meant for them to keep an eye out for the missing person. Fellow police officers knew that a HAAPB meant that a loved one was missing, but not in trouble. 

+-+-+-

Blair closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. He was resting in one of David's _many_ spare bedrooms and boy, did he have a lot. The house was ritzy enough that each bedroom had its own name; this one was called the Canary Room. It was aptly named, because the decor was done in varying shades of yellow and cream. 

David had insisted that Blair rest for a while, stating that it was really too late to start cataloging tonight anyway. Blair knew that the other man was just giving Blair a chance to recover and he appreciated the consideration. 

He shifted over on to his side a little more, in an effort to get more comfortable, so he might have a shot at getting some rest. The student tried to blank his mind; he didn't want to compare tonight where he was alone with last night when he had been snuggled in Jim's arms after they had made love. No, he thought about his new employer and how nice the man was. David had already checked on Blair several times since he had laid down, nudging Blair awake, just enough to do a neurological check. 

Yes, Blair knew who the president was. Yes, he knew where he was and yes, he knew his name. 

Blair smiled at how nice David was being, especially to someone he hadn’t even heard of just a few hours ago, and drifted off to sleep as the pain medication he had reluctantly taken took hold. 

+-+-+-

Jim watched as Simon leaned his head back against the couch; he could see how tired his friend and captain was. The Sentinel glanced at the clock and realized it was after three in the morning. He was about to suggest that the bigger man go get some sleep in Blair's old bed when he noticed something. The African mask, the one that had always given him the willies, was missing. 

Ellison stood up and started looking around. Simon noticed his friend's abrupt movements and sat up straighter. "Jim, what's wrong?" 

The detective didn't answer as he turned around in a circle, finally spotting what wasn't there. In addition to the mask, there were several things missing, items that had turned the loft from a cold and rather sterile residence into a warm and loving home. "His stuff is gone," Jim answered the captain finally in a strained voice. 

Jim hurried up the stairs to his and Blair's bedroom, taking the steps two at a time. There was nothing left, not one pair of dirty socks on the floor, no flannel shirts hanging beside his clothes in the closet; just an empty space where the younger man's things used to be. He almost flew down the stairs and into the bathroom. In the cup on the sink, his lone toothbrush stood on solitary guard. 

Warily, Jim opened the French doors and looked in at the spare room. There, stacked up nice and neatly, were several boxes. Blair's things were boxed up and ready to go. Just like Blair was ready to go, out of Jim's life. The possibility of no more Blair to lighten his days and warm his nights had the Sentinel's heart clenching in his chest. After a little searching, Jim found the Indian blanket Blair had given him and that he loved so much. He clutched the softly woven wool to his chest. 

"Jim," Simon's voice was quiet, like they were in a church, or a funeral home. That's what it felt like to Jim, who wondered if his and Blair's love had died or if there was any hope yet. 

"Yeah, Simon?" 

Jim followed the Captain's voice into the kitchen. "I was, uh, going to make some tea. You know, some of that stuff that Sandburg swears calms you down." Jim nodded and waited for his friend to continue. "But everything's gone from here too," Simon admitted. 

Ellison took a deep breath and extended his sense of smell. He nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, all his spices and stuff are in there too." Jim jerked his head back towards the other bedroom. 

"And...that's not all." Simon held out a coffee cup. "I found this in the trash. I'm afraid it's broken." 

Jim put the blanket, which he hadn't realized he was still carrying around like an overgrown Linus from the Snoopy cartoons, down on the counter and took the cup from Simon's hand. "I forgot all about this. Blair gave it to me ages ago." 

He looked at the broken cup and wanted to cry. He didn't, because Ellison men didn't weep like women, they were tough men and kept things like that inside. That was one lesson that Jim had learned from his dad, one that had burrowed itself deep inside his psyche. 

'Except for when your team died,' his mind whispered traitorously. 'You cried like a baby then.' 

Yes, he had. The pain of losing so many good friends had been overwhelming and Jim had broken down. 'That didn't feel anything like losing Blair does.' 

"...im. Jim!" 

The detective looked up at his friend. He hadn't been zoning out this time, just lost in the memories and the pain. "Yeah, Simon?" 

The dark skinned man smiled weakly and held up a bottle of quick drying glue. "I think we can fix this." 

Jim looked back at the cup. It wasn't as broken as it first seemed. The handle had snapped off and there was a thin, hair-line crack at the top, but nothing that couldn't be mended. He just hoped his and Blair's relationship could be taken care of so easily. 

The two men leaned against the counter and carefully glued the cup back together. Jim was determined to use the cup the next day and every day thereafter. 

+-+-+-

"I saw it on my way to work this morning," Rafe explained to Jim and Simon. He didn't stand very close to the two men and it was evident that he was still pissed off at them over the way they had treated Blair the day before. "There is a lot of road work being done on Channing St. this week, so I detoured from my usual route, otherwise I would never have seen it. I recognized Blair's car right away and remembered hearing about the HAAPB so I stopped. The owner still hasn't arrived, that's why I called you." 

"Thanks, Rafe," Jim said gratefully. 

Jim paced beside Blair's locked Corvair and impatiently waited for the owner of Lucky's Garage to appear. Every time he walked by the driver's side window, the detective would touch the glass, as if he were trying to make a connection with the missing man. Simon wasn't faring much better, he actually had his cigar lit this morning and was puffing away on it vigorously. 

Rafe's phone call at 6:30 a.m. hadn't woken Ellison. He'd tried to go to sleep after they glued the coffee cup back together, but had given it up as a bad job after a couple of hours. Jim, with Simon's help, had taken everything of Blair's out of the extra room and put the items where they belonged in the rest of the loft. Simon hadn't batted an eye when many of Blair's things ended up in the airy bedroom upstairs. 

Seeing Jim’s and Simon's agitation softened Rafe's anger. He could tell that they were sorry for the way they acted and he sincerely hoped Blair could forgive them. The young detective knew that Jim and Simon were good people; Simon had just let his frustration over the lousy week they'd been having spill over onto Blair. And Jim...well, personally Brian figured it was sexual frustration. Either that or he and Blair had finally gotten together and Ellison was worried about the backlash. Maybe...well, he'd tell Rhonda and Taggart how upset they were. If Simon's secretary and the bomb squad captain weren't as mad, then the rest of the department might ease up a bit. 

The crunch of gravel had them all turning to look at the end of the driveway. A newer model, silver, half-ton Ford pickup pulled on to the driveway. A short, gray haired man in a spotless pair of dark blue coveralls stepped out and limped over to them. Jim could hear a faint metallic clicking sound and followed the sound to its source, somewhere around his knee, and reasoned that Lucky had an artificial leg. 

"Can I help you?" the man asked congenially. You would have thought that having several agitated people outside his business was an everyday occurrence. Internally, Jim shrugged. Maybe it was. Or maybe Lucky's business and conscience were as clean as his clothes. 

"Blair Sandburg." 

Lucky waited for a few seconds for him to continue. "Yeah?" The garage owner crossed his arms and waited. 

"This is his car." Jim pointed to the older vehicle. Lucky looked over at the Corvair. 

"Yeah, it is." Lucky scratched his head and waited again. 

"I'm his partner, Jim Ellison..." 

Lucky interrupted. "Ellison. Oh yeah, Blair's mentioned ya a few times." 

Jim nodded, pleased that the older man knew who he was, that would save valuable time. "I'm looking for him. There was a...misunderstanding yesterday and I need to find him." 

Ellison ignored the snort that Rafe gave when he said misunderstanding. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Simon give the tatty detective a warning look. Rafe ignored the Captain, after all, they weren't on duty yet and despite what some people might think, they didn't have to kowtow to their boss when it wasn't working hours. 

"I'm sorry ta hear that," Lucky said with a sympathetic frown. "But I don't think I can help ya. I got a call yesterday afternoon from Blair sayin’ that his car wouldn't start again. I towed it from Prospect, but he wasn't there. He said..." They all waited, leaning forward eagerly, for a clue to where Blair had gone. "He said that he had a job lined up and left the keys for me in the usual place." Seeing their disappointed looks, the mechanic shrugged. "Sorry, I wish I could tell ya more." 

"Thank you anyway, sir." Simon shook the man's hand. It was easy to see that Jim was too disappointed to observe the niceties. The captain handed the owner a calling card. "Here's my number. If you should hear from Blair, would you please give me a call on my cell phone?" The gray haired man nodded and limped away to open his business. 

Rafe sighed. "I better get to work." Simon nodded and they all three looked at Blair's car, sitting there so innocently. "I'll keep looking," Brian muttered. 

"Thanks for calling," Jim said. The younger detective acknowledged the thank you with a wave of his hand as he got back in his car and drove away. 

+-+-+-

The slender young man climbed back down the wooden ladder and laid a stack of books on the library table. "Thank you," Blair said gratefully. 

"No problem," Daniel said with a negligent wave of his hand. "You don't need to be traipsing up and down a ladder, not in your condition." 

"Yeah, but that's part of what you hired me for." Blair silently wondered if he wasn't cheating the other man out of some of his money, especially considering that Daniel was helping with the work. 

Daniel laughed. "No, I hired you to catalog all this," he waved an arm around at the rows upon rows of books. The shelves were on three of the four walls, from floor to ceiling. "I can help fetch and carry. I'm going to be here all weekend anyway, doing paperwork." 

Blair smiled at the older man and used his uninjured hand to pull the newest stack of books over to start cataloging them. It was a long and tedious process, because he put down all the information he could about each book. Publisher, date published, size and condition. For most people this procedure would take hours to accomplish, but Blair was used to processing books and so it only took a matter of a few minutes for each one. Every time Blair got a new book for his office, he did this same process, so the anthropologist could do it without much thought. 

He devoted the majority of his attention to his new boss and, he thought, potential friend. Daniel Sinclair was a good looking man, probably only a few years older than Blair himself. He was tall and slender, with a nice tan and the most amazing green eyes. Blair couldn't decide what to call the color of green, but it brought to mind water on a stormy ocean when the sun hits it just right. Not quite sea foam green, but not Kelly green either. His pale blond hair was as long as Blair's, but straight where the anthropologist's was curly. It hung in a straight sheet around his face and looked like it was made of corn silk. 

Blair made sure he wasn't caught staring at the other man; he didn't want to be considered a pervert or anything. It was just that someone that beautiful demanded your attention. If Blair hadn't been madly in love with Jim Ellison, he would have considered making a play for the other man. 

He would have considered it and then dismissed the idea. There was a sadness that hung around Daniel like a halo around the sun. You could almost taste the pain that the taller man tried to hide. Blair figured someone had broken his heart; he recognized the signs. 

"Do you need some more books?" Blair glanced up and then back down at the depleted stack in front of him. He laughed. "Yeah, I guess I do. I was so engrossed that I hadn't realized I was almost out." 

Daniel smiled and climbed back up the ladder for another stack. "That's what I figured." 

Blair eyed the back of Daniel's expensive linen trousers and again wished he were free, or at least felt like he were free. For a slender man, Daniel had a very nicely rounded behind. This led to thoughts of Jim's luscious butt and Blair closed his eyes in regret. 

"I'm going to get something to drink. Would you like anything?" Daniel set the double armload of books down on the desk that Blair was using and tilted his head to one side inquiringly. 

"Yes, please," Blair tugged on the sling. "Some tea, if you have it." 

"Tea it is," Daniel said over his shoulder. 

"Don't go to any extra trouble," Blair said quickly. 

Daniel laughed gently. "I was going to fix some for myself. Don't worry. You worry too much, Blair. Life's way too short for that," he said cryptically. 

Blair frowned at his new boss' back. 'That sounded ominous,' he thought to himself. 

+-+-+-

Daniel leaned against the kitchen counter and waited for the water to boil. He had forgotten to ask Blair if he wanted his tea hot or cold, so he would take both, because walking back to the library was just too much effort right now. Come to think of it, most everything was too much effort lately. 

The blond man closed his eyes and willed himself not to cry. He was done with weeping like an abandoned maiden; although he was truly abandoned. 

His lover, former lover that is, was well placed in the community, as was Daniel, and had been too afraid of the scandal that might have come from having a homosexual lover, so he had dumped Daniel. It had broken his heart, but Daniel had understood. He just couldn't take the emptiness inside anymore. That's why he was tying up the loose ends of his estate. By this time next week, he planned on not hurting anymore. 

+-+-+-

"Here you go." Daniel set the tray down on the corner of the desk. "Tea, any way you like it." He smiled in what he hoped was a happy way and picked up a glass of iced tea. The slender man added enough sugar that the amber liquid was syrupy by the time he was through. 

Blair watched him add spoonful after spoonful of sugar in amazement. "Wow, you really like it sweet." 

Daniel smiled and took a drink of the super sweet concoction. "I don't drink liquor. Don't smoke and I wouldn't take drugs if you paid me. I figure that I deserve to indulge once in a while." He sat down on the edge of the desk as Blair dipped his spoon into the bowl several times himself. 

"Here's to indulgence," Blair quipped and they clanked their glasses together. 

Blair eyed the other man and considered what he wanted to say. This was the second day that he had known Daniel, but it seemed like they had been friends for much longer. They just seemed to click and he wondered if what he was going to say would ruin the newfound, tentative friendship. That gave Blair pause. He had lost so many relationships in the last couple of days that he was afraid to make any untoward moves. 

"What's on your mind, Blair?" Daniel asked with an amused twinkle in his eyes. 

The younger man grinned. "That transparent, am I?" Blair still waited and then decided to risk it. "Do you have somewhere _special_ to be on Tuesday?" He put extra emphasis on the word special, hoping that Daniel would understand and especially hoping he was wrong. 

Daniel didn't look up for a moment. One finger was tracing a lazy figure eight on the polished wood. "What makes you ask that?" he finally said, just as Blair was seriously beginning to worry that he'd upset Daniel. 

Blair took a deep breath and plunged all the way into the subject. "I'm an anthropologist." Daniel frowned at him through blond bangs. Blair gave him a small grin. "I'm paid to observe people." 

"Ah," Daniel said and nodded. "Yes. I'm...thinking about it." 

Sandburg watched the other man's confusion and tried to help. " _Thinking_ about it?" 

The blond man sat up straighter. "Yes, thinking. I was certain of where this life was heading, now...I'm not so certain. I did have an appointment..." he trailed off. 

"In Samarra?" Blair asked somberly, quoting W. Somerset Maugham from the short story, The Appointment in Samarra*. 

"Yes," Daniel agreed quietly. "But now...I just don't know." 

"That's good," Blair said. 

"Is it?" Daniel asked, setting his glass down on a stone coaster. "Having a new friend is good, but you'll be gone in a couple of days and I'll be all alone again." The blond man sounded so despondent and it touched a chord in Blair’s heart. 

"I may not be right here," Blair said with a wave of his hand, indicating the room and the house at the same time. 

'And where will you live?' Blair's mind whispered. 

"...but we can stay friends." 

Daniel walked over and nudged a heavy curtain out of the way and looked out into the dark night. "Yes, friends. Not quite the same, is it?" 

"The same as what?" 

"Having someone to love you, hold you in the night." Daniel sighed. 

Blair stood up as fast as his sore and aching body would let him and walked over to stand by Daniel. He leaned against the dark velvet hangings and watched the quarter moon watching them back. "No, it's not the same as having a lover, but it can help." 

One corner of the blond man's mouth quirked. "Hmmmm. Yes, well, my lover wasn't around that much either and we never went anywhere together." He frowned at the acknowledgement of how limited their relationship had really been. "I've never been to his office and I doubt he even knows where mine is. We didn't go out in public and he never invited me to his home. The only times we were close was when he visited here." 

The anthropologist nodded sagely. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Jim and I were friends before we got together and he treated me better before. I guess he thought there was some kind of gay-vibe that would alert the media. _Jim and Blair are having sex, news at 11:00_." 

Daniel laughed and gestured to the red leather couch. "Come on and sit down. You need to take a rest." 

Blair gratefully followed. His leg was throbbing and his neck ached something fierce. He had removed the neck brace this morning and was beginning to regret that. The doctor had said he only had to wear it if he thought he needed it and Blair was starting to feel the need. 

"My lover was afraid to be seen with me in public at all. We were different than you and...Jim?" Blair nodded yes to Jim's name and Daniel continued. "We met at a fancy dinner and got to know each other that way. It wasn't long before we were lovers; we weren't friends first. I-I guess there wasn't much more than the physical relationship between us." He frowned at the self-admission. 

'If you call that first night, not long,' Daniel thought with a grin. He remembered every moment of that evening vividly. The blond man frowned slightly. 'Was that part of the problem? Was I too quick to fall into bed with him?' 

"Man, I can commiserate. Jim denied us, even in private." 

Daniel blinked several times and looked deep into Blair's sapphire blue eyes. "I can't believe someone would deny you," he said quietly. 

"Thanks." Blair used his unimpaired hand to brush the hair behind his ear with the edge of his thumb. Daniel thought the move was especially sweet and made him look so young and vulnerable. Daniel, on the other hand, felt old and brittle and used up. "Jim wouldn't say we were in a relationship, even when it was just the two of us." 

The blond man placed a sympathetic arm around the anthropology student and patted a flannel covered shoulder. "M-maybe we're better off without them." The shakiness of his voice didn't even convince Daniel and Blair just gave him a sad, watery smile. "And if you believe that, I've got some swamp land for sale," Daniel admitted slowly. 

+-+-+-

Jim was climbing the walls. Simon was about to join him, if for no other reason than to bat the agitated Sentinel down. This was the third day since Blair had disappeared. The captain looked at his watch. This time three days ago, he was yelling at Blair, taking his anger and frustration out on the student. 

There had been no further signs of the young man since finding his car with Lucky, the mechanic. Simon was temporarily staying at the loft, because he wasn't sure what the Sentinel would do if he was left alone. On the upside, the loft had never looked better. Just when Simon would think that Jim couldn't possibly find anything else to clean, the detective would prove him wrong. The captain glanced up at the ceiling and decided that even it looked cleaner; although how Jim would have managed that feat without Simon knowing about it was a mystery. 

The phone rang and Jim literally pounced on it. Simon blinked in surprise and for just a moment he could see the blank panther that Jim had told him he saw sometimes as his, what was it? Oh yes, his spirit guide. The captain was grateful that he hadn't been standing between the Sentinel and his ringing prey, because Simon was certain that Jim would have plowed over him in his haste to get to the phone. 

"Hello?" The _Blair_ was unspoken, but Simon could hear him asking it. Ellison's shoulders slumped, just a bit, so Simon knew that the grad student wasn't the one on the other end of the telephone. 

Simon looked around the spotless loft and briefly considered throwing around some of the soil in the many plants that Blair had introduced to the previously sterile looking room. He figured that after this disappointment, the Sentinel was going to need something to distract him and a new mess to clean up just might be the perfect thing. 

"...you know where he's gone to work?" 

The captain quickly hurried over, his attention firmly back on the other man. Jim looked up and Banks saw hope in his eyes. Simon crossed his fingers and prayed. 

"Thank you so much. This is really a big help." Jim finished writing on the pad by the phone. "Yes." He nodded automatically, even though the caller naturally couldn't see him. "I'll have Blair call you as soon as I can. Thanks." He clicked the button that turned off the phone and tore off the top piece of paper. 

"Have you found him?" Simon quickly pulled on his shoes when he saw that Jim was doing the same. 

"Yes," he said triumphantly. "That was "C". I've got the address and phone number of where Blair is working. Apparently he's cataloging some guy's library." 

Simon frowned. "He shouldn't be working like that, not after the wreck he was in." 

Ellison stopped tying his shoes for a moment. "No, he shouldn't. And not after the month he's had." At Simon's questioning look, the Sentinel continued. "He's had problems with a couple of his students who were less than pleased with the grades they were getting. I know that Blair worked one on one with them for several afternoons, just so they'd get a passing grade. He's like that, you know, selfless. Blair could have blown them off, especially since they waited until the last minute to ask for help, but he didn't. And because of all that, he's been run ragged and was really looking forward to this mini-vacation." Jim clutched his jacket in one tight fist. "I guess he needed to get away from me." 

Banks could see what enthusiasm his friend had gotten from the phone call was being pulled out of him. "Well, we'll go apologize, the both of us, and get him back home, where he belongs." 

Jim nodded and stood up decisively. "Damn right." 

Simon grinned. That had been relatively easy. "So, where is he?" 

"Uh," Jim consulted the paper in his hand. "The address is 11012 Aerie Lane. We better get going; it's way the heck up in the hills and may take us a while to find." 

The detective was too busy hurrying out the door to see Simon stop cold in the middle of the room. Shock paled the darker man's face and made him gasp for breath. The coincidence was too much to be believed. 

Simon quickly realized he was being left behind and hurried after the Sentinel. 

+-+-+-

The house was a mansion. A _huge mansion_ , one that made all the other mansions in the neighborhood feel inadequate in comparison, sitting at the top of a large hill, nestled in among the tall canopy of trees. There were several tall, white columns that framed the entrance of the pale blue house. By the front gate was a small brass plaque that read The Aerie. As they drove up the long driveway, Jim could see several different kinds of exotic birds flying around. There were peacocks, both white and the more colorful variety, and many different and varied colors of birds; too many to count, even for a Sentinel. 

Ellison parked his older pickup truck by the entrance. Most people would have felt self-conscious in leaving the vehicle in front of a house where the door knocker probably cost more than the truck itself. But then most people hadn't been raised like Jim had, in a well-heeled household where their worth, in the community that is, was slammed into his and Stephen's heads every day. However, even used to a very comfortable lifestyle, as he had been in his youth, the detective was impressed with the house and grounds. After all, there was comfortable and then there was filthy, stinking rich! 

Again, Simon was slow to follow his friend. Banks gazed around slowly as he got out of the truck. The large man smiled wistfully when he spotted a small birdbath that was standing to one side of the entryway. A flash of pale brown caught Simon's eye as a Siamese cat ran up and began rubbing against his leg. A small silver bell tinkled from where it was attached to the turquoise blue collar that was wrapped around a sleek neck. 

"Hello girl," Simon said. He bent over and scratched between the bright blue eyes. The cat closed its eyes and purred in ecstasy at the attention. Pushing up against Simon's hand, the small animal blatantly appealed for more attention. "Later, Precious," Simon promised. 

Jim glanced over, silently acknowledging the exchange, before he mounted the steps and rang the doorbell. The Sentinel cocked his head to one side slightly and extended his senses into the house. He couldn't hear or smell Blair, so he went farther. His body seemed to grow longer and longer as he stretched his hearing and went further into the house in a vain attempt to find his lover. 

Ellison was heading deep into a zone when Simon bumped into him and unknowingly pulled him back. The captain had been looking around and not paying much attention when he stumbled into Jim’s back. Before Simon could apologize or Ellison could thank him, the front door opened to reveal Daniel. 

Daniel looked surprised to see Simon, stunned even, not that Banks could blame him. The blond man looked at Simon for a few seconds, his handsome face astonished and hopeful, then he seemed to come to himself and Simon could see his expression close down. He looked away from the tall man and purposely wouldn't look at him. 

Simon felt his heart plummet, but realized he didn't have anyone to blame but himself for the cold attitude. But it was still painful and left a hard lump of despair sitting in the middle of his chest. 

+-+-+- 

"Hello, I'm Jim Ellison," the Sentinel introduced himself. Jim smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner, acknowledging that he needed to get by this fragile looking young man in order to find his lover. 

"Yes?" the young man questioned. 

"I, uh..." Jim faltered for a moment, his smile slipping a bit. "I'm looking for Blair Sandburg. I was told he might be here." 

The blond man frowned and almost glanced over to Simon, but stopped himself in time. Jim flicked a quick look over at his friend, just in time to see a look of devastation go across his dark face. Ellison wondered what was wrong, it was obvious that the two men knew each other, but they seemed reluctant to admit it. 

"Yes, he is here." The young man thought for a moment. "Jim, huh?" 

Jim nodded and gave the other man his most sincere smile, hoping that would get him in the door. Amazing green eyes appraised him and were singularly unimpressed. For some reason, that made Jim sad, even though he didn't know Blair's employer. Something inside of him recognized a lost soul and the Sentinel side of Jim's personality wanted to help him. And, Ellison decided, he wanted this member of his tribe to like him. It seemed important somehow. 

"Hmmm...Blair has mentioned you." 

The Sentinel winced at the statement. It didn't seem like Blair had said anything good about him, although he couldn't really see Blair actually speaking ill of him. He tried again to sense Blair and was startled to realize that his Guide's scent was all over the young man in front of him. Jealousy started to climb up his back, but before he could say anything damning, the blond man shook his head. 

"I'll find out if Blair will see you or not, but I'm not making any promises." He stepped back and gestured them in with a swing of his arm. "You might as well wait inside." 

The slender body of the cat twisted in just as the door started to swing shut. "I'm sorry, Precious. I didn't see you standing there." Daniel bowed in amused apology to the feline. 

They all watched as the regal cat trotted down the center of the hallway, head erect and tail swishing imperiously. She obviously knew who was mistress in this house. It was then that Ellison realized that Simon knew the cat's name. 

Shutting the door behind them, the blond man led the way down the long hallway. "By the way, I'm Daniel Sinclair," he threw over his shoulder, again without looking at Simon. 

Jim was astonished that such a rich man was answering his own door. In Ellison's experience, most people this wealthy didn't even know they had things like doors and kitchens, except to leave out of the former or get food from the latter. In fact...he couldn't sense any people other than the three of them and Blair farther on in the house, which was astonishing in a house this size and gave Jim a moment of trepidation. 

'Was he planning on doing something to Blair while they were in the house alone?' Jim thought about it for a moment, but decided there wasn't any duplicity in the younger man. There was despair however... 

"You can wait here," Daniel said as he led them into a music room. There was a grand piano and a harp standing in one corner. A violin case lay on a long table, next to a dulcimer. Jim wondered if it was all for show. 

'It sure was with dad,' he remembered. Music had been arranged on the piano, for viewing purposes only. As far as Jim knew, none of his family could play any instruments whatsoever. 

The detective watched Simon and Daniel not watching each other and reasoned that not only did they know each other well; they appeared to be very close. 'I wonder if Blair and I are that obvious.' 

"I'll be right back," Daniel said quietly and he slipped out the door. 

Ellison began to pace back and forth. He didn't like the delay, but he did understand Sinclair's reluctance. Jim didn't know if Blair would want to have anything to do with him and he certainly didn't know what _he_ would do if Blair refused to see him. The detective couldn't see himself leaving without at least talking to his lover. 

A couple of musical notes startled the concentrating Sentinel. He looked over to see Simon running his fingers over the piano keys lovingly. The big man placed his hand on the softly glowing wood and caressed it. The sad look on his face made Jim's anxiety spike and he decided to search for Blair once more. 

Immediately his senses were assaulted. Blair's heartbeat drowned out all other sounds, it was beating in a fast and erratic manner; he was either in pain or frightened. For a moment, Ellison faltered, worried that his presence was what had upset his lover. But then came the smell of blood, Blair's blood. There was no mistaking it. 

"Chief!" 

Jim took off running down the hallway, not particularly surprised to hear Simon right behind him. The Captain had grown a little more used to the detective knowing things most people didn't and running off without explanation. 

"Jim?!" 

"Blair's hurt," was all the explanation Ellison had time to give. His senses led him straight to his lover, his Guide. 

‘If he’s hurt Sandburg I’ll hit him so hard his dreams will need dental work,’ the Sentinel thought to himself with a snarl. 

The duo burst through the doors of a massive library, startling Daniel, who was kneeling beside Blair. One pair of startled green eyes and another pain filled blue set of eyes met Jim's. 

"Jim!" Blair looked so happy to see them that Ellison was momentarily distracted from the blood on Blair's leg. Then the young man looked over at Simon and he swallowed hard, his happy look turning to fear. "S-Simon." 

There was no mistaking the fear in the voice or in those expressive blue eyes. Jim heard his beloved Guide's heartbeat go crazy. 

+-+-+- 

"Ow, ow...damn, oh damn." 

Blair clutched his leg and rocked back and forth, cursing his backpack, the reason for his renewed misery. The anthropologist had gotten up after Daniel had gone to answer the door, intending to look out the library windows to see if he could tell who had arrived. In the several days that Blair had been working at The Aerie there hadn't been very many visitors. Less than one, actually. So, he was curious about who was here. 

That had been his intention; however, reality had cut that plan short. Blair's tennis shoe had caught on the strap of his backpack, which was hooked under the edge of his chair, and he had fallen, straight down onto his injured leg. One of the cuts that hadn't needed stitches had opened back up and was bleeding again. Not to mention how the fall had jarred his neck and arm. 

"Damn, and I just took the brace off this morning." Blair stopped grabbing at his leg and put his good hand up to his throbbing neck. He took several deep breaths, trying to keep the tea and sandwich he'd had for lunch in his stomach where it belonged. 

The library door opened, just missing Blair's outstretched leg. "Blair, you have a couple of visitors..." Daniel's voice trailed off as he realized Blair was stretched out on the floor, instead of resting on the couch. "Blair? What happened?" 

Blair explained his fall while Daniel hurried around the desk and came back with a small hand towel. The slender man carefully pressed the cloth down where the most blood appeared to be coming from. Blair jerked and hissed at the pain that radiated out from the wound. 

"Sorry." Daniel winced in sympathy. 

Blair's brain thought back and he realized that Daniel had said the visitors were for him. He figured that Sea had come to see how he was doing and either Paul or David had driven him. It was a cinch that his easily excitable fellow teacher wouldn't be up to driving himself for a little while. Therefore, Blair was astonished and caught completely by surprise when the door was again flung open and Jim was standing there. 

"Jim!" 

The grad student felt relief flood his body, covering it like a warm blanket. Jim was here. Everything would be all right now. And then he saw Simon and everything came crashing back. What were they doing here? How did they even know where he was? 

'Is Simon making good on his threat? Has he come here to arrest me for some imagined crime?' 

Blair wondered if he was going to have a heart attack because he was so scared. He didn't realize that his expressive face was showing everything that he felt and thought. 

+-+-+- 

Simon was ashamed to see the fear on Blair's face when the observer looked at him. The captain realized at that moment just how much he had hurt Blair with his words. It was one thing to know he had scared the smaller man, but seeing him sitting on the floor of the library, looking so young and frightened made Simon feel like he had just stomped on a kitten. 

Daniel started to help Blair up, intent on getting him to the brown leather sofa that sat against one wall. Jim frowned at the billionaire and reached out his own hand. 

"That's okay, I'll do it." 

Blair looked from man to man uncertainly. Daniel noticed his dilemma and stepped back gracefully. Jim picked the smaller man up easily and hugged Blair to his chest possessively. Simon sincerely doubted that Blair's injured leg even touched the floor as Jim quickly laid him out on the couch. The detective started to remove Blair's sweat pants and the observer finally found his voice. 

"Jiiim!" he protested with a sidelong look at the two men who were watching the exchange. Simon was amused to see a rosy blush creep up the irrepressible young man's face. 

"Chief, there's blood on your pants. I need to look more closely at the wound." 

"Yeah, well not in front of everybody," Blair conceded. He pushed Jim away when the detective tried to ignore his protest. Blair forgot and used both arms. The movement made his cut arm hurt and he cried out in pain. 

"Oh crap, Chief. I'm sorry." Ellison took hold of the sling covered arm and held it still for Blair. 

"Here, maybe this will help." Daniel tried to offer a compromise. He picked up a lap blanket from one of the other chairs in the room and laid it over Blair. The large, red and blue tartan material covered him from the waist down and even had enough left over to pool on the floor around the sofa. 

"Thanks." Blair smiled up at his employer and new friend. "But I'd rather go to the bathroom and clean my leg...by myself." He didn't look at Jim, but they all knew what he meant. 

"I'm sure you would," Daniel said soothingly, "but we need to make certain that you aren't hurt worse." Blair considered that, all the while sneaking peaks at Jim. "Besides, you wouldn't want to bleed on the rug, would you?" 

Blair quirked a smile at the droll tone. "No, I wouldn't want to mess up the Persian." 

Simon was amazed at the easy camaraderie between the two men. He knew for a fact that Daniel didn't let people in close to him very easily and despite Blair's outwardly easy-going demeanor, inside he was just as tough to get to know as Jim was. 

"Good, I'm glad that's settled." Ellison seemed not quite as happy as if Blair had agreed because he had asked him, rather than Daniel, but he clearly wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The detective reached under the lap robe and began pulling Blair's pants down. Even though the anthropology student was completely covered, he was obviously still embarrassed. 

"Why don't you and I leave them alone for a while," Daniel suggested. 

"That's a good idea." 

Simon followed the other man out of the library and to another room. Behind him, Simon could hear Blair protesting something with a plaintive, "Ji-im!" Banks smiled and felt hope for Jim and Blair's relationship. 

Simon was no fool and took the opportunity to observe the man he was following. His eyes drank in the slender form and so he was taken by surprise when they arrived at their destination. The room was a study, but this one was partially packed up. Boxes ringed the room, some with bubble wrap sticking out of them, others already sealed and marked for storage. 

"Are you going somewhere?" There was panic in the bigger man's voice. Daniel either didn't hear it or chose to ignore it. 

"Yes...probably." Daniel had a frown of indecision on his face. "Maybe...oh, I don't know." 

The blond man was confused. This time last week he knew what he was going to do. His future, or hopefully lack thereof, was decided and all that had been left was making everything as easy as possible on those who would have been left behind. But now... now he had a new friend and Simon was back in his life. Everything was so jumbled in his mind... 

Daniel studied the design on the carpet. He wouldn't, no, he couldn't look up. Simon studied the blond man for several seconds. 

"You've lost weight." 

Daniel glanced up and shrugged negligently. "I guess." He looked Simon over. "You've got new glasses." 

"Not really. I've had them a couple of months." 

"Oh." Again the carpet was examined, as if it held all the secrets of the universe. 

"I...uhm..." It wasn't very often that Simon was tongue tied. 

"How's Daryl doing?" 

"So-so." Simon waggled his hand back and forth. "He's really grown, you wouldn't recognize him." Simon smiled brightly, with enforced enthusiasm. 

"I never met him," Daniel said tonelessly. 

At Daniel's flat reply, Simon's shoulders slumped. "I know." Looking at the back of Daniel's down turned head, Simon felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut. This pain and sadness was his fault. Simon had been so scared of _coming out_ that he hadn't even acknowledged Daniel as a friend. 

"I'm sorry." 

Daniel flicked a glance up and away. He turned his back on the other man and started to walk away. "For what? For dumping me? Denying me...us? What?" 

"For hurting you." 

Daniel stopped abruptly in the middle of the room. All Simon could see were the tense shoulders. He had a vivid memory of caressing those shoulders and the knife in his stomach grew longer and began to turn when he thought of what he had lost. 

'Get real Banks, you threw it away.' 

Unable to stand the distance between them anymore, Simon moved closer to his lover and placed his hands on the too thin shoulders. Daniel gasped, closed his eyes and unconsciously leaned back into the touch. 

Simon wrapped his arms around the blond man and held him close. It always astonished Simon how well their bodies fit together, like they were made to hold each other close for the rest of their lives. 

"I love you." 

Daniel's eyes flew open at the declaration and he lunged forward, away from Simon. "No!" 

His strangled sob tore at Simon's heart. It almost killed the captain to hear his lover denying them. In a sudden moment of clarity, Simon got a glimpse of what Daniel had gone through during their relationship. The feeling made Simon want to scream and that was after just a few minutes of being ignored and denied, not months on end, like Daniel had been. 

"Don't." Daniel had crossed his arms and was clutching at his sides with thin, desperate fingers. "Don't say something that you'll regret come tomorrow." 

"I won't," Simon tried to reassure him. 

"Yes, you will. The first time someone _might_ see us together you'll panic. I can't take you denying we even know each other. I just..." The blond man paused and put his hands over his eyes, blocking out the sight of the darker man. "...I just can't take any more." 

Simon felt a flare of regret at the pain his fear had caused. He started to say something and gasped instead, his mouth snapping shut as he thought over the last couple of days. 

"Oh, my god. That's what Jim's done, isn't it?" 

Daniel turned around and nodded. Simon forgot all about Jim and Blair and their problems as soon as he saw the tears in his lover's eyes. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"Me too," Daniel sobbed and hurried out of the room. 

+-+-+- 

Earlier 

Jim looked his lover over critically. Blair looked like hell. His jaw was bruised and slightly swollen and there was another, long bruise at the juncture of neck and shoulder. 

'Probably from the seat belt,' he surmised. 

"I'm so sorry," Jim said, as he lovingly stroked the bruises. 

Blair wanted to lean in to the touch. He wanted to trust the Sentinel, but was afraid. The anthropologist could remember other people who had befriended him over the years, only to turn on him when times got tough or they just grew sick of having him hanging around. In Blair's mind, that's what Simon and Jim, by sin of omission, had done in the captain's office. 

Blair had waited patiently until after Simon and Daniel had left the room. Jim was busy cleaning the blood from Blair’s leg. His long fingers rubbed the cloth up and down, gently swiping away the smeared blood. 

"Jim, why are you here?" 

Ellison paused in his ministrations and looked up. The serious look on Blair’s normally bright countenance warned the Sentinel that he better get this right if he ever wanted Blair to come home again. The Sentinel sat back on his heels and looked sad at the question. It was really tough to not throw himself into Ellison's arms, especially when the Sentinel was being so solicitous and caring. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Blair blinked in surprise. “Wh-what?” 

“I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I have been for weeks.” 

That admission stole some of Blair’s thunder. “Uh, okay.” 

"Simon and I drove by the wreck," Jim continued explaining. "I could smell your blood..." 

Blair interrupted. "So, you panicked. The Blessed Protector mode kicked in and you came hunting." For the moment, Blair forgot that the accident had been several days before and any automatic protective instincts would have worn off by now. The anthropology student started to get up, but Jim placed a hand on Blair's exposed knee. The slight touch was enough to stop him. 

"No, I've been searching for you because I need you and not just for the Sentinel stuff, although that's certainly true. I need you in here." Jim placed a hand over his heart and Blair was astonished to see that it was shaking. 

"You do?" he asked softly. 

The door opened at that inopportune moment and an upset Simon walked in. "Sandburg," Simon interrupted unintentionally. "Blair," he amended. "I'm sorry for the way I acted at the station. There was absolutely no excuse for the way I treated you, or the things I said. I was an unmitigated ass and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." 

Blair's mouth hung open in surprise. It wasn't often that Banks apologized to anyone and he certainly had never offered any apologies to Blair. 

The young man’s mouth opened and closed a few times, making him look astonishingly like the Guppy that Jim sometimes called him. Despite the seriousness of the situation, and all that could potentially be lost, Banks found himself a little amused at the sight. 

“I-I, uh,” Blair frowned and glanced down at the lap rug, as if searching for answers in its pattern. He finally closed his mouth, but this time the generous mouth was tightened in worry. 

“I’ll understand if you can’t, though.” Simon felt that he owed it to the grad student to give him a graceful way out. After all, he didn’t have to accept Simon’s apology. 

The observer swallowed hard and winced when it made his sore neck ache even more. He glanced up, and up and up, at Simon, but flicked his eyes over to the side. It was easy to see that he was still frightened of the captain. 

“I’m gonna go wait in the music room,” Banks offered sadly. He turned to leave the room, only to pause when Jim spoke. 

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” Ellison told the older man. 

Simon nodded, acknowledging the statement. He was afraid to talk, not sure if his voice would crack under the strain. 

“Thanks, Simon.” 

Banks paused and looked over his shoulder. Blair’s statement was a hopeful sign and a testament of the young man’s good nature. The captain knew that if anyone had dared to treat him that way, he would not have forgiven them, ever. 

‘Thank god, Blair is not me,’ he thought to himself. 

Simon smiled and walked back out the door. 

+-+-+- 

“He apologized,” Blair stated in a near whisper. It was apparent from the look of surprise on his expressive face that the grad student had never expected such a possibility. He glanced over at Ellison, obviously still amazed that he had apologized too. “I’m…” Whatever he’d been about to say was stopped when the library door opened again and Daniel was standing in the opening. 

“So, what’s the verdict?” the blond man asked in a quiet tone of voice. 

‘Blair is mine,’ Jim thought to himself. He thought for a moment, though, and realized that probably wasn’t what the billionaire meant. Ellison frowned as different ideas raced around in his head. 

Seeing the confusion, Daniel clarified, “How badly is his leg hurt?” 

The Sentinel nodded his head, getting his brain back on track. “Blair’s popped several stitches.” 

“I guess I’m going to have to go back to the hospital and get sewn back up,” Blair admitted gloomily. He hated going to the hospital almost as much as Jim and the ex-Ranger’s aversion to medical attention was legendary. 

“Not a problem,” Daniel stated pulling a cell phone from his pants pocket. “I’ll have my doctor come over and get you fixed up in no time.” 

Jim started to protest. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Daniel, because he certainly did, but the Sentinel wanted to get his Guide back in his territory, i.e. the loft. As long as Sinclair was providing food, shelter, medical attention and friendship, Jim didn’t have a prayer of getting Blair to come home with him. 

“You will?” Blair sighed in relief. “That’s great. I don’t really want to go anywhere.” The grad student gave Jim a guilty look and Ellison realized that even if he had driven Blair to the hospital, the younger man would have insisted on returning to Daniel’s home. 

The detective gave Blair a sad smile. He knew that it was his own fault that his lover wasn’t willing to come home with him. Jim didn’t begrudge the observer having a new friend, especially one that could and would take care of him without any strings attached. 

“Jim. I…” 

“It’s all settled. Dr. Tichenor will be here in half an hour,” Daniel stated, unintentionally interrupting Blair. When he saw the tense look on both of the other men’s faces, Sinclair offered, “Would you like to be alone? I can wait for Elliot in the foyer?” 

Blair turned away from Jim and looked over at his friend and employer. Ellison felt a pang in his chest when he wasn’t the center of Blair’s attention anymore. 

“Of course not. You aren’t going to wait in the entry hall of your own house like a servant.” Blair smiled and pointedly didn’t look over at Ellison. “Besides, Jim and Simon probably need to be on their way. Right?” 

The detective nodded, not trusting that his voice would remain steady in the face of such a kind dismissal. In his mind, Jim had always known that Blair’s forgiveness would not be had so easily, if at all, but in his heart he had dreamed that the grad student would fly into his arms and hurry home with him. After all, in the few months that they had known one another, Blair had done exactly that on several occasions. Maybe not the flying into his arms bit, because they hadn’t been lovers for all of that time, but he did forgive and forget. A lot. 

“Yes, Simon and I need to get back to the station. We’ve, well, we’ve been a little distracted lately and I know that I, at least, have a lot of paperwork that I need to catch up on.” 

Jim stood up and with a last, reluctant look at Blair, he started out the door. Just before he left, however, the Sentinel paused, as if trying to decide something. Nodding his head once, Jim turned and hurried back over to where Blair was sitting and gave the startled man a quick kiss on the lips. 

“See you later, Blair, baby,” he whispered against Blair’s lips. 

“Uh, yeah, later,” Blair responded in a dazed voice. 

“I’m not giving up,” Jim declared, standing up. 

“Good.” 

Daniel, who had moved out of the way when Jim started to leave, gave the detective a sympathetic look and an encouraging smile. He and Blair watched as the ex-Ranger strode out the door. 

+-+-+- 

True to his word, Jim didn’t give up on his campaign to re-earn Blair’s trust and love. He returned the very next day to Daniel’s mansion, bearing gifts. 

Since Blair was a man, and thanks to his Sentinel senses, Jim was allergic to flowers, Ellison brought the younger man some candy. The 36-piece box of Signature Godiva chocolate assorted Truffles was a big hit; and well it should be, considering the cost. 

Blair seemed to be amused over the bribe, as did Daniel; not that either man actually laughed. Jim knew that Daniel, who was a very rich man, probably ate the expensive chocolates all the time, but to a working cop, they were a rare luxury. 

“Jim, man, you didn’t need to spend all this money,” Blair told him, as they were relaxing on one of Sinclair’s many decks. “I don’t have to be wooed with candy…” Jim pulled his jacket off of a cellophane covered bundle and presented it to Blair with a flourish. “…and flowers,” Sandburg finished quietly. 

He accepted the bouquet and sniffed at the posies. Blair rubbed his face against the delicate petals and grinned in delight. He might insist that he didn’t need to be courted, but the younger man obviously liked the courting rituals, especially when Jim’s allergies kicked in a moment later and the Sentinel gave a mighty sneeze. Sandburg knew that the detective couldn’t be around flowers very much, but he had bought some for Blair anyway. 

“Although, this is good,” he admitted with a smile. 

+-+-+- 

“S-Simon?” Daniel took a step back and stared at the other man in surprise, and well he might, considering this was his own home and he hadn’t known that his lover, ex-lover, was even there. 

“Hi, Daniel,” Banks said softly. It was easy to see that his sudden appearance in the mansion had spooked the younger man. “You’re looking well,” he added. 

“Thanks.” Sinclair frowned at the statement; he truly hadn’t realized how the problems with Simon, and his resulting depression, had been readily apparent on his expressive face. “So are you,” he admitted. 

“Thanks,” Simon stood straighter at the compliment. 

"So," Daniel glanced around the hallway in a semi-nervous gesture, "What are you doing here?" 

Sometimes Simon came along when Jim visited Blair, but he didn't see or hear Ellison and Blair always asked permission before having the police officer come over. Daniel was confused as to why the captain was lurking in his hallway. 

"I wanted to see you," Simon stated seriously. 

"Oh!" Sinclair paused and looked up at his ex-lover. "Really?" 

Simon nodded. The sad look on his face showed how upset he was that his lover was actually startled that Simon was coming to see him. "Yes, really." 

"Well." He glanced around again and ran a hand through his blond hair, messing up the silken strands. "Uhm, let's go in here." He gestured to a random doorway. 

Banks followed the smaller man, enjoying the way his pale linen pants outlined Daniel's backside to perfection. The way each side shifted and flexed as he took a step... 

His concentration was broken when Daniel turned and revealed an even better view. Simon realized he was ogling the billionaire, and while that was a worthwhile pastime, it probably wouldn't regain the younger man's trust anytime soon. So, Simon snapped his gaze back up to Daniel's breathtaking, soul weary, emerald eyes. Luckily, Daniel seemed to be as preoccupied as Simon was—although, not for as enjoyable a reason—and had missed the way Banks had been looking at him. 

"Alright. What can I do for you?" Daniel asked. He sat down on one of the half a dozen chairs scattered around the room and looked Simon in the eyes for the first time since he'd spotted the older man in his hallway. 

"I." Banks decided the hell with it and dropped to his knees. Daniel's eyes bulged out in an alarming way and his delectable mouth fell open. 

"S-Simon?" 

"Please, forgive me," Banks begged, taking both of Daniel's pale, slender hands in his dark, and much bigger ones. "I was an idiot. I let what other people thought, or might think, influence me and our relationship. Instead of revering you like the treasure you are, I stomped on your feelings and threw away our love. I'm begging you to give me another chance. I promise that I will love and protect you for as long as I am physically able. And, if God is willing, I want us to be together, even in the next life." 

Daniel seemed to be shocked by the captain's declaration of love and devotion. Simon had told him that he loved him, in the quiet of the night, after they had made love, but never anything like this. It was almost enough for Daniel to trust him with his heart, again. 

Almost. 

But deep inside of his head was a voice reminding the billionaire that Simon had a tendency to run scared any time they seemed to be growing closer, and that he should protect himself at all costs. Another voice piped up and pointed out that Banks had never apologized before either, and certainly not on his knees. 

Simon's dark eyes were pleading from behind his glasses and Daniel couldn't resist that look any more than he had been able to in the past. He mentally told those inner voices to shut the hell up and leaned forward to kiss the older man. 

"I forgive you," Sinclair muttered against Simon's soft lips. He could feel Banks' smile against his own. “Please don’t do this again,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I couldn’t…wouldn’t survive it again.” 

Simon felt a pang in his chest. Blair had hinted to Jim that Daniel had been far beyond depressed and the billionaire had all but admitted that himself just now. The captain realized how close had come to losing Daniel forever and clutched the blond even closer to his chest. 

“I won’t,” he promised. If anything ever happened to Daniel, Simon felt sure he would follow close behind him to the other side. 

+-+-+- 

Jim followed behind Blair as the grad student walked into the loft; one hand on his back, both to support and to double check that he didn't change his mind at the last minute. 

It had taken several long weeks of coaxing to get Blair to return home. Several, long, lonely, quiet weeks in the vast emptiness of the loft while the younger man continued to reside with his friend and new employer. 

Daniel was a nice, decent man and a good friend to the observer. Jim knew that Daniel and Simon belonged together and that the billionaire was just a good friend, but the Sentinel was still jealous of the newfound relationship. 

Blair paused by the coat rack and looked around like he didn't recognize the place. Ellison gave the loft a quick, but thorough, perusal and didn't see anything different. During the weeks that Blair had continued to live at Daniel's home and catalogue _all_ of his libraries, Jim had put everything back where it belonged; the spooky mask was back on the mantle, their beautiful blanket was lying across the back of the couch, everything. 

With one major exception. 

Blair's personal things, which had been kept in Blair's room, were now upstairs, where they belonged, and where they should have been all along. The detective had originally 'suggested' that Blair keep his stuff downstairs so that anyone visiting their home would mistakenly think the room under the stairs was still Blair's bedroom. 

Now, he realized that he was the only one who cared. And was one of the few people who thought their friends were actually fooled by the misdirection. 

'I almost blew everything over nothing, because of my own insecurities.' The Sentinel looked over at his lover and vowed to think long and hard before he spoke again. 

+-+-+- 

Blair wandered over to his room and looked inside. What he saw made his expressive eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The room was kitted out as an office, not a bedroom. The futon was still there, but it was folded up into a couch, instead of a bed. His laptop sat on a desk in one corner of the room. The desk was new and certainly wouldn't have fit into the room before. 

"Jim?" Blair turned to his...what? Lover? Ex-lover? Friend? Sentinel? Blair wasn’t sure how to classify Jim anymore. 

Ellison moved closer, placed his hands on Blair’s hips, and tugged him until they were inches apart. Closing his eyes, Jim leaned forward and rested his forehead on Blair’s. 

“I want you upstairs with me, all of the time; that’s where you should have been as soon as we became lovers.” 

Blair’s breath caught in his throat at the intense look on Jim’s face. He had always hoped that the Sentinel would let him all the way in, but knowing Ellison’s insecurities, he hadn’t counted on that outcome. 

“Are you sure?” Blair asked softly; anyone other than a Sentinel wouldn’t have heard the question. His hands slowly rose up and settled on Jim’s waist. 

“Yes, I am,” Jim stated firmly. He bit his lip. “Are you certain? After the way I treated you…” 

“That’s in the past,” Blair told him. His tone of voice was strong and confident…and he almost convinced himself. 

+-+-+- 

"Hey, Hairboy! Welcome back!" Henri enthused, from all the way across the room. Naturally, he had to yell to make himself heard, so that meant that everyone heard...and looked around. 

Blair's face turned an interesting shade of vermilion. He waved at Brown, but declined to holler back. The anthropologist plopped down in the guest chair by Jim's desk, amid hellos from various well-wishers around the room. The anthropologist glanced around the room, automatically taking in the people and what was going on; it was purely an instinctive reaction for the man who observed for a living. The squad room was especially busy today, with several people sitting around in handcuffs and most of the detectives busy doing the ever present paperwork. The suspects tried to look either tough or innocent. 

'Unless this is some kink party,' Blair thought to himself. He was wise enough not to joke like that around the 'manly' men and 'tougher than men' women. The last thing he needed was to have some homophobic jerk get mad at him. During a lull in the conversation, one of those rare moments when a deafeningly loud room gets quiet all of the sudden for no discernible reason, Blair heard Jim's voice and realized that he was in Simon's office. Instinct had Blair halfway to his feet before his brain caught up with him. Just a few weeks earlier, he would have gone over to the captain's door, to see if they needed his help. 

'But the last time I did that, it ended in disaster," Sandburg reminded himself. His body, which had been in the process of standing up, slowly lowered back into the visitor's chair. Jim had apologized and Simon had apologized, but Blair still didn't trust them 100 percent. Both men had a tendency to take out their frustrations and anger on their unofficial observer. Blair pulled his backpack out from underneath the chair and dug out some papers that needed graded. He did his best to ignore everybody and, most especially, the feeling of...not belonging. 

+-+-+- 

Jim opened the door to Simon's office and stopped in surprise. Blair was sitting in his usual chair at Jim's desk, no big surprise there, but he obviously hadn't come into Banks' office as soon as he arrived, and the grad student was working on schoolwork, not Jim's paperwork, as was the norm. Ellison felt a pang in his stomach and glanced back at Simon, who was looking over his shoulder to see what the holdup was. Banks had a pained look on his face and Jim knew that he'd noted the changes in Blair, as well. 

"Uh, thanks for the advice, Jim." Even the captain's voice was quieter than usual. "Manelli's sounds like a good place to eat." 

"It is, sir. I guarantee that you..." Jim hesitated a moment, looking to Simon's face for confirmation. The older man smiled and nodded. "You and Daniel will really enjoy it," Ellison continued. It was amazing. Noting happened when he said the name of Banks' lover. The world didn't end; people didn’t run screaming from the room. Life went on. Blair did smile up at him, though. 

"It's good to have you back, Sandburg," Simon admitted. Blair turned his smile to him. 

"Thanks, Si--uh, Captain Banks." 

"That's Simon to you," the older man barked, looking serious, for all of three seconds, and then his face cracked a smile. Sandburg gave a smile in return, but Banks could see that the humor was strained. 

+-+-+- 

Daniel licked his lips nervously before swallowing quickly. He ran a hand down the front of his raw silk shirt, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. Daniel was almost amused to realize that he hadn't been this nervous since he'd come out to his father at age 19, and compared to Elliot Sinclair, the boy waiting inside was a lightweight. Daniel was standing outside of Simon's front door, trying to gather the strength to go inside for dinner with Simon and, (gulp) Simon's son, Darrell. 

Ding. Dong. 

The younger man smiled. Of course Simon would have a standard, old fashioned ringer for his doorbell. When people nowadays had ones that played anything from the National Anthem to _I Wanna Rock_ by Twisted Sister, Banks would choose something straightforward. Sinclair's own doorbell played the opening notes from Fur Elise, which Daniel had to admit was a holdover from his mother, as it had been her favorite song. 

He could hear rattling as the chain was taken off the front door, before it opened. "Daniel," Banks greeted him. Daniel found himself pulled into the foyer and into a hug. The captain gave his lover a quick kiss on the lips, more of a peck, in consideration of Darrell, who was watching the scene from his bedroom doorway. 

"Simon." Daniel smiled up at the taller man. He looked over and gave Darrell an equally happy smile and a nod. "Darrell. It is good to see you again." 

The younger Banks grunted in reply. He shrugged one shoulder, indicating his teenage surly attitude was still firmly in place. Simon glared at his son, upset with his reaction to Daniel. The blond man patted his arm in a placating manner. This wasn’t the first time Daniel had been close to Darrell, and his attitude. The younger man acted like Daniel was the reason for every bad thing that happened in Darrell’s life. 

"Let me get that," Simon offered as he took hold of the collar of Daniel's Burberry coat. Daniel shrugged out of the overcoat and watched as Simon hung it up. Out of the corner of his eye, the blond man could see Darrell watching his father with a condescending smirk, as if being courteous was something to be looked down on. 

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Simon apologized. "I need to finish up dinner." 

"Oh. I'll..." With a tiny shake of Simon's head, Daniel changed what he was saying from an offer to help with the meal to... "How is school going, Darrell?" The rich man sat down on one of the dining room chairs. He could see that the table was already set with Simon's very best dishes and felt a warm glow inside that his lover was going all out to impress him. 

"It's school," Darrell stated. He didn't actually say it, but his tone of voice gave the impression that Daniel had just asked the dumbest question ever. 

Daniel nodded, deciding to ignore the implied criticism. "Yes, I guess it is. You were going to try out for the basketball team, weren't you? How did that turn out?" Simon had told Daniel about Darrell's ambitions. 

The teenager shrugged one shoulder negligently and looked the other way in disdain. Daniel had no idea if that meant that Darrell got on the team or not; or whether Darrell cared. 

Daniel decided he _didn't_ care one way or another and that he wasn't going to keep trying to connect with the surly teenager. It was this way every time Daniel came around and the blond man was officially giving up. He walked into the kitchen where Simon was chopping at a pile of vegetables furiously; the large knife was going so fast that it was almost a blur. 

Daniel could smell chicken cooking and the yeasty tang of fresh bread. Much like Blair, Daniel liked to eat a healthy, mostly vegetarian diet, so the chicken was likely baked and there were plenty of vegetables to eat. 

"Unless you want us to drink those vegetables, you might want to stop," Daniel suggested dryly. 

Simon gave his lover a startled look, but the cutting stopped. He glanced down at the pile of mostly minced food and snorted. "I guess it is small enough," Simon said with a laugh. 

"Hmmm. If you needed to suck it through a straw," the younger man observed with a teasing smile. 

"Yeah." Banks' eyes darkened a moment and he gave the door into the living room a narrow-eyed glare. "Speaking of which..." He started towards the door, but was impeded by Daniel's slender hand on his arm. 

"Simon?" The billionaire was worried for Darrell and for Simon, because if he lost his temper with his son, Simon would feel guilty for a long time. 

"Don't worry, baby. Everything will be fine," Simon reassured his worried paramour. 

Walking into the living room, Simon was conflicted. On the one hand, he loved his son and had worked damned hard to have a halfway decent relationship with the young man. However, and this was a big however, he was desperately in love with Daniel and he _wasn't_ going to risk losing him again. Darrell was threatening his love with Daniel, because Simon knew that the blond man would leave rather than come between father and son. 

'That is _not_ going to happen,' Banks determined to himself. 

"We need to talk," Simon announced. 

Darrell was sprawled all over the couch in a loose-limbed imitation of a starfish, his feet up on the cushion. The younger man barely acknowledged his father's arrival, let alone his statement. Feeling the anger rising up once again, Banks glared at his son. He snatched the remote out of Darrell's hand and used it to turn the television off. 

"Hey!" The younger Banks sat up. "I was watching that!" 

"And I said that we need to talk," the captain reiterated. 

Darrell swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes going big. It was obvious that his father was pissed off and as big as Simon was, when he got mad, you listened. "Okay." Not that Darrell had any choice in the matter. 

Hearing a noise, Simon looked back and saw Daniel peeking around the edge of the door nervously. Daniel gave Simon a sad smile, which both warmed Banks' heart and hurt it at the same time, before disappearing back into the kitchen. Turning back to Darrell, Simon saw that his son had a dismissive sneer on his face. Simon saw red. 

"Up!" Darrell's head jerked back to his father and the young man belatedly remembered his dad's anger. "I said up!" Simon took hold of Darrell's upper arm and pulled him to his feet. "Come on." The two men went to Darrell's room, with Simon marching his son along in front of him. 

"Hey!" the teenager said, yanking his arm out of his father's grip. "I don't have to be abused," he stated, going for attitude to cover his worry. 

"Don't hey me," Simon snapped back. "And if you think this is abuse, I've got some pictures I can show you sometime." 

Darrell winced. Considering his dad's resources, he could only imagine what the pictures would be of. He opened his mouth to say something, although he didn't know what, when the elder Banks interrupted him. 

"I've had enough," Simon stated. "Daniel is important in my life and I _am not_ giving him up. I love you to death, Darrell, but I am tired of living for other people. Daniel is a big part of my life and, God willing, he is going to be around for the rest of my life, so you had better get used to him." 

Banks junior sat down on his bed and flicked a glance at the closed bedroom door. 

"I don't know what your problem is, young man, but it is going to stop. And I mean now!" Simon barked out the last sentence, making Darrell jump. "You have known about my bi-sexual nature for years, so has your mother. For criminey’s sake, Joan is the one who figured it out, way before I did." 

And having his ex-wife, then wife, figure out that he was attracted to men as much as he was women had been startling and more than a little embarrassing. Even Darrell, who had barely been a teenager then, hadn't been surprised at the revelation. Amazingly, that wasn't what had caused his and Joan's marriage to crumble. It had, instead, been the pressures of his new job as Captain of Major Crimes that had eventually driven a wedge between them. 

'Just like it almost did between Daniel and I.' Simon blinked hard at that revelation and firmed up his resolve to do whatever it took to keep this lover. 

"I've dated men before and there wasn't all of this tension. What exactly is your problem with Daniel, anyway?" 

Darrell shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't like him," the boy admitted. 

"Too bad. I _do_ like him. A lot! As a matter of fact, I love him." Darrell looked up in surprise at the admission. "You might as well learn to like him, or at least tolerate him, because if I have any say in the matter, Daniel's going to be around for a very long time." Simon shook his head and leaned against the dresser, which released some of the tension in the room. "You talk a good line about wanting me to find someone..." he trailed off. 

"I do want you to find someone. You are alone way too much," Darrell defended himself. 

"But then I find someone and you treat him like shit." The teenager frowned as he thought about that. "Act like a man, son. There are a lot of people that I don't personally like, but I can at least be civil to them." Simon straightened up and reached for the doorknob. "You can either be nice to Daniel, or you are welcome to eat your dinner in your room. The decision is up to you." 

Darrell's mouth fell open; he couldn't believe that his father was choosing ‘that man’ over him. "Maybe I'm ready to go home." The comment was made as the ultimate threat. Darrell knew that his dad missed having him around and any suggestion that he go home early had always gotten him anything he wanted. 

"That's up to you." 

The younger man felt tears welling up in his eyes and his breath caught in his chest, like someone had his heart in a tight fist and was squeezing it for all it was worth. 

"You will be a grown man in less than a year and it is high time that you learned that stamping your feet will only make your knees hurt." His son blushed, because he hadn't realized that Simon knew he was being manipulated. "Daniel is important to me. For that reason alone, you should be decent to him. I am not saying that you have to leave and I _am not_ choosing Daniel over you, but I will not allow my beloved to be treated like dirt." Banks walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

Darrell thought that Simon’s statement and his decision came easily to the older man, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. It almost killed Banks to walk away from his son, knowing that the younger man was hurting. However, Simon realized he had other priorities, as well. 

The captain had always chosen others and what they might think over Daniel’s feelings, but no more. The blond, slender man who was standing in his kitchen was just as important as the dark, slender teenager sitting on his bed. Banks didn’t want to choose between them, but he wasn’t going to let his lover be run roughshod over either. 

Re-entering the kitchen, Simon saw a worried Daniel look up from the lettuce he was tearing for a salad. The captain smiled at his lover and was rewarded with a wan smile in return. 

Simon returned to his vegetables and had the rest of them chopped in short order; although they were in slightly bigger chunks than the first set. It didn’t take long to finish preparing the meal and place the dishes on the table. 

Banks felt a flush of happiness spread over his face when Darrell slunk into the room. He smiled at the young man when he hesitated in the doorway and was thrilled to see Daniel smiling in welcome, as well. 

Dinner was quieter than Banks was used to. Darrell had a tendency to rattle on about whatever was going on in his life and Daniel often filled the silence with his own quiet chatter. But this time neither man spoke very much, leaving it up to Simon to do the talking and since Simon was normally a very reticent man, there wasn’t much chitchat. However, the bits of conversation that they did have were pleasant, giving Simon hope for his little family’s future. 

+-+-+- 

Blair rolled over onto his side and curled into Jim's warm and loving embrace. He lazily slit one eye open and glanced over at the television; the Jags were down by three points, and he didn't really care. 

Ellison tightened his arms around his lover and kissed the top of his head. Their restful weekend at home had been just that for once. There hadn't been any phone calls from the station—possibly because Jim had unhooked the main phone and turned both of their cell phones off—and no one had come knocking. Again, that was because Ellison had 'strongly suggested' that people leave them alone. Friends and supervisors alike were so glad that the two of them were happy again, and therefore not making everyone else miserable, that they were only too glad to oblige. 

Sandburg's wandering gaze landed on the coffee table where his teacup and Jim's coffee mug resided, side-by-side. A soft smile crossed the younger man's face when he saw the Sentinel's 'Cops do it better with flashers' mug, complete with repaired handle, sitting there for all the world to see. Actually, just the two of them were seeing it, but it was the principle of the thing. 

The anthropologist ooched himself closer to his reclining lover and grinned again when he felt some stirring at his hip; the smile wasn't nearly as soft this time. Blair twitched his hips again, deliberately rubbing hard bone against the growing erection. From where his hand was resting against Jim's chest, Blair felt the detective gasp in appreciation, but the older man didn't move. Still. Jim had apparently decided to give Blair the 'space' to get over his hurt feelings. Well, Blair had had enough space and the feelings he was experiencing had nothing to do with hurt. 

"Ji-im," Blair drawled out the other man's name, seductively. "Let's move upstairs," he suggested. 

"Are...are you sure?" Ellison asked, swallowing hard against the thick feeling in his throat. 

Blair slid a hand down Jim's chest, past his rock hard stomach, to another 'rock hard' section of his body, and gave a gentle squeeze. Jim's hips arched automatically and he gave a quiet growl in the back of his throat. "Do I seem sure?" Blair asked. 

"Oh yeah!" the Sentinel said enthusiastically. He was up off of the couch in a flash. He grabbed his lover by the forearm and pulled him up; one muscled shoulder caught the younger man in his stomach and quickly had him hauled up into a fireman's carry. Blair laughed lightly as his lover hauled him around like a sack of potatoes. He was still laughing when Jim dropped him onto the futon in his old bedroom—Blair reasoned that, even though he could carry Blair, going up the stairs was a whole different ballgame. 

The Guide leaned back and patted the bed beside him. "Come on, Jim, I think we've both waited long enough." 

The Sentinel obviously agreed, and as he sucked Blair's tongue into his own mouth, both men realized that the time for forgiveness was past. The future awaited. 

The End. 

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*A/N: I have included this short story, in case you don’t know what I am referring to. 

The Appointment in Samarra, as retold by W. Somerset Maugham 

The speaker is Death 

There was a merchant in Bagdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me. 

The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. 

Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said. Why did you make a threating gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning? 

That was not a threatening gesture, I said, it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra. 

The end. 

Notes: Betaed by Bobbie. This is a story for Patt, who made a generous donation to the Moonridge Auction. She wanted a story where the boys break up, at the station and home, but get back together, and has a happy ending. 


End file.
